The Other Saga Part Four: Absolution
by soulful-sin
Summary: The last installment of The Other Saga. With Wanda returned, is everything right again? Or are there those seeking retribution?
1. Unwell

Author's Note: Welcome back, my friends, for the final installment of TOS. If you thought this would be a cakewalk for our friends, you have no idea.

Disclaimer: Lorenzo belongs to _me_. As does this plot idea, including everything up to and surpassing this point. If you steal any of this, I will hunt you down and make your life _very _miserable indeed.

In other news, I don't own the FOP cast.

Chapter One: Unwell

Since the fated duel and Wanda's return, months passed. The school year had ended, with a tragic funeral to the missing Lorenzo. Pauline nearly threw herself on the coffin (filled, ironically, with nothing at all) and had to be forcibly removed.

It would have been amusing, were it not for the fact attendance was mandatory and Timmy's face turned unpleasantly sallow seeing her. To him, he was a bastard, but other people didn't see him like that. In fact, if he'd uttered any reason for Lorenzo's disappearance as having to do with him, he entertained no doubt that they'd turn on him in an instant. As it was, however, they turned to him, believing him to be the closest to him.

In effect, this was true, although he disliked the idea immensely. This wasn't the idea that robbed him of his sleep; it just peeved him. Fortunately, since the school year ended, he didn't see his classmates again.

No, the thing robbing him of his sleep was the act itself. Many a night he'd stare up at the ceiling and pray for sleep, only to see images of Lorenzo's murder in his head. Yes, he knew Lorenzo was to blame for his parents' death, Miss Waxelplax, Tootie and Vicky's parents (sometimes, it was hard to imagine those two coming from the same genes…as far as he knew, they were as different as day and night), Cal's and probably a multitude of other murders he had yet to discover. Nevertheless, it'd been almost easier to take because it'd been _The Other_ committing those acts and not him.

He'd taken a life, albeit not a human one, but a life just the same. Like Cosmo, it'd been justified only…there was a marked difference. Juandissimo definitely hadn't loved Cosmo, whereas Lorenzo had loved him.

In fact, it was this sentiment that died on his lips, those three words that haunted him in his half sleep. He'd killed him begging for another way, but silently accepting that which he could not change. Somehow, he'd received information ahead of time regarding his demise, yet that hadn't seemed to impact his final actions.

Although he'd known it was a duel, he'd never fought back. He'd never put a defense, either. Every attack Timmy made, it was as though he were fighting one of those dummies oh so long ago.

However, unlike them, Timmy believed he was fighting to right a real wrong, not one forced upon him. Lorenzo was the real deal, the one he'd been against all along, and therefore, it was just to murder him and end his miserable existence. He'd suffered no pangs of guilt during the duel, so why now?

He knew why. Almost as if enacting a biblical scene, Lorenzo had begged for his forgiveness. He knew he was beyond it, yet he tried anyway.

He'd begged, pleaded, everything that Cosmo and Wanda had done in the What-If spell. Oddly enough, Lorenzo had acted pretty damn near human, instead of the monster Timmy knew him to be. It hadn't given him pause then, but it did now.

And what was it about his final moments that made him so accepting of him? When he'd cast the final magical spell, thanks to Wanda's outfitting, Lorenzo hadn't screamed, hadn't whined, hadn't done anything. Instead, he sat there; his arms folded across his bleeding chest, and gazed up at him.

"Do you really think you're making everything right again?" He'd asked, his eyes shimmering with love and compassion.

"Do you think by changing the future, you can change the past?"

"Are you happy, Timmy Turner?"

But, in the duel, his words had fallen on deaf ears. Like a bull, he'd charged, cast the spell, and, the instant before it killed him, he'd seen him die with his name on his lips. He'd felt the wrench in his mind as the telepathy blew away and all the magic vanished.

"I love you, Timmy…" Those were the last words he'd said…

He'd known he was bound to die and that he was the only one to do it, so why did it weigh on his conscience so heavily? What was it about it that drove him insane? And why didn't the thought of Lorenzo going to hell make him happy?

It was these thoughts and more that kept him up at night, kept him reliving the duel, and, most of all, made him wonder if he were no better than Lorenzo, taking advantage of someone offering no resistance.

-

Sophie too suffered, but from a different ailment. Juandissimo's death had set off a chain reaction, his magic sweeping every place he'd touched. One set of memories had been returned, however, another had been permanently erased.

The day Sophie returned home, still shaken from what Wanda had told her, her parents stared blankly at her. They asked her, quite simply, what was she doing there? This wasn't her house, how on earth did she get in?

Startled, she'd tried to tell them many times over that she was their daughter, but no avail. No matter how hard she labored, she couldn't enable their memory for longer than a half hour. In the end, they'd thrown her out of the house and threatened to call the cops.

Desperate, with no place to go, she'd called upon her former fairy godmother, serving until a new one was assigned. Wanda, sympathetic but trembling violently whenever Juandissimo's name was mentioned, agreed to let her stay at Timmy's house. By now, she and Cosmo pretty much ran the house and, even though it was technically his, they were his legal guardians.

Since Tootie technically lived in the guest room (whenever she came home, that was), she'd had to conjure up a new room, invisible to the outside, for her. It'd been everything she'd ever wanted at home, in an effort to appease her. Although her parents were still alive, she was an orphan thanks indirectly to her, and Wanda had to make amends.

Sophie had utterly no idea what was going on, as no one would speak to her, and unhappily began her new life, completely out of the loop. No one ever saw fit to clue her in.

-

Matters were also greatly complicated by the fact that, despite Vicky and Mark being married, they still resided under the same roof. Timmy desperately wanted them out, not because they should become independent, but so he wouldn't have to suffer anymore.

In many respects, Vicky was much worse now than she'd ever been. Her mood swings were horrible, ranging (very rarely) from pleasant to downright cruel (most of the time). She'd taken pot shots at everyone, excluding Wanda, who had the common sense to avoid her.

Timmy, who had the weight of what he'd done burdening him, had enough to deal with without Vicky screeching at him about how he'd ruined her sister. He'd had the audacity (and, in hindsight, the stupidity), to snap back at her that if she wanted to talk about ruining people, she ought to take a look at what she'd done to her. He'd been on the brink of saying something even worse, but Vicky, being out of sight of Mark, slammed him into a wall and knocked him out.

It was no small wonder then, that Mark almost always (after that incident) trailed after her, making sure that (a), she didn't have a miscarriage and (b), she didn't turn homicidal around anyone but him. Apparently, he had the mojo that could handle her, something no one possessed. Whatever it was, nothing of that magnitude happened again, much to Timmy's relief.

Unfortunately, there were other problems, besides Sophie's new location, Wanda's obsession with helping him, Tootie's absence, and Vicky's pregnancy. (As if that lot weren't bad enough!)

Gary, constantly scrutinizing the scene for any signs Tootie might (a), return or (b), leave Timmy, remained underfoot. Every once in a while, one could spot him skulking about Timmy's house, his eyes peeled for any sign of his creator's 'soul mate'. (He looked upon the title with scorn, as he refused to believe anyone in the presence of their 'fated one' would treat them so disdainfully. He didn't deserve her anyway, so why permit him the opportunity to speak with him?)

Unfortunately, the horizon was disappointingly bleak as the past few months, culminating in Timmy's uncelebrated birthday, were Tootie free. In fact, she'd yet to be seen in about five months (it currently being early July). No one understood why her absences were so long and her returns so short, not even her sister, Vicky. (Who, quite frankly, would have killed someone, preferably Timmy, to find out).

Lorenzo DeMedici…was no more. The specter haunting Timmy lived only in his dreams, or did he? Sometimes, when he walked downstairs and glanced in the mirror, he had the odd, prickling feeling in the back of his neck, as though someone were watching him. Whenever he darted back, the mirror was empty, not even reflecting him.

And what of our fairy friends, Cosmo and Wanda? Well, let's just say there's no such thing as a fairy tale ending…

-

Wanda awoke in a cold sweat, shuddering deeply. Beside her, Cosmo slept untroubled, no dreams of violation or cruelty keeping him awake at night. She envied him…except for the stupidity factor, but that was something else entirely.

Sighing heavily, she weighed the idea of staying here and waking Cosmo to perhaps get some comfort, or visiting Timmy and comforting him, who was taking the murder of Lorenzo quite hard. Although both Timmy and Cosmo had killed someone recently, it was only Timmy, oddly enough, who lost sleep over it. The fact remained that Cosmo had been in a do or die situation anyway, and if he hadn't pulled out all the stops when he had, she wouldn't be lying next to him right now. Timmy, on the other hand, was an entirely different story.

She knew when she looked at him how troubled he was. She really ought to make up the lost time with him, just be there with him. He didn't need to know her inner demons, nor would it benefit him. She had to deal with this on her own, just as she had in the past. The only thing that had changed was Juandissimo wasn't coming after her…physically. Emotionally was a different story.

Sighing heavily, she kissed Cosmo on his forehead and departed, off to godmother her godson. Her body still trembled, but she'd be all right, so long as Timmy didn't inquire as to her dreams- Juandissimo raping her as he slit Cosmo's throat…God…

The bile rose in her throat and she nearly choked. Every night, it was the same struggle against her body and its reactions to her nightmares. Most of the time, she won, but when she didn't, tremors shook her body so badly, she couldn't sleep.

Poofing silently into his room, she surveyed it, noting with a smirk that the Crimson Chin poster was still up, as well as, hidden in the back, a picture of Tootie. They might be on the outs, but he still loved her. Unfortunately, since he was a teenage boy, he had a difficult time expressing it.

"Timmy?" Wanda whispered, descending onto his bed. He moaned, tossing and turning. Instantly, her heart went out to him, sobbing his sleep. It took her an instant to realize, by pressing her palm against her cheek, she too had been crying in her sleep.

"Stop…Lorenzo…I want him dead…but no…I'm not a murderer!" Timmy screamed, bolting upright. Wanda, resting comfortably on his lap, gazed up at him and brushed an errant tear away. Calm down, Timmy…the ghosts of the past can only harm you if you let them…

And she'd been letting them harm her for far too long. She'd tried to shunt them out of her mind but it appeared the more she rejected them, the more they forced their way into her dreams. Her subconscious told her the past was important…no matter how much she fought against it.

"Wanda?" He whispered, feeling the almost airy weight of her body on his. Fairies did actually weigh something, for the magic within dispelled a little gravity upon the earth, but what they weighed was often negligible, unless they had dark magic still resident. Wanda did, she might never be able to remove it, and so Timmy felt her in his lap.

"What's the matter, sport? You were crying in your sleep." Stretching her wings (she was getting used to them again, after being without them for so long), she floated up and hugged him tightly. He, tears trailing down his face, clung to her. She said nothing at all.

His tears reminded her entirely too much of her own. However, unlike him, she could ill afford the luxury of sobbing in someone's arms. She was the strong one, she had to be. Timmy had suffered enough and Cosmo as well…she had no right to ruin that relationship again. She was the rock and the rock never cried.

"I…Cosmo told me you cry in your sleep too. That, sometimes, you wake up screaming. He says it really scares him," Timmy said, leaning his head against her chest. She stiffened immediately, cursing Cosmo for pretending to be a heavier sleeper than he was. So he was just letting her scream her head off and not do anything about it? Hmph.

Or maybe it was just that every time he heard her scream, he panicked and didn't know what to do. That was more likely, knowing Cosmo. He probably hadn't the foggiest notion what she was screaming about, and that suited her just fine.

He didn't need to know that whenever she closed her eyes, she relived the past. He didn't need to know that when he touched her, she saw Juandissimo in her head. Moreover, he really didn't need to know that when she was alone, she started crying. No one needed to know that, least of all her husband.

"You haven't said a word to us about what Juandissimo did to you, and every time you look at Sophie, you start to tremble. What on earth did he do to you that was so bad, it turned you completely black, made you threaten Cosmo, and-"

"The moon is awfully high tonight," Wanda interjected, sensing where this conversation was headed, in the direction she'd sooner flee than remark on. Maybe if she distracted him, he'd forget the fact that, in all likelihood, her stability and her happiness were at an all time low, perhaps even more so than his. She was just going through the motions, knowing he needed her and helping him, just so she didn't have to feel him inside her.

He gave her a queer look. "What does the moon have to do with anything?" _Unless you're a werewolf and you haven't told us. That could explain the screaming…_

"And the stars are all out," Wanda continued, ignoring him. Grimacing, she fought the rise of bile in her throat, recalling Marseilles _and 'you are mine! You have no right to seek out Cosmo'…_

"Wanda…you haven't been the same since you came back. You almost never speak any more, you're very withdrawn and moody, and, when no one's around, I think I've heard you crying…" Timmy murmured and Wanda pulled away completely. No, this was not a conversation she wanted to have, no way in hell. And she'd been hoping no one noticed her personality change…

"Suddenly, I think I'm very tired," Wanda lied, folding her arms across her chest. "I'll stay until you fall asleep again and then I'll go to bed myself-"

"What are you hiding from me, no, not just me, us? You aren't even letting Cosmo in and he was the one you were fighting Juandissimo for-" Timmy started, but, a migraine arising, Wanda interrupted.

"Don't say that name!" She hissed, holding her head. Memories of his actions sped through her mind and she nearly plummeted out of midair. He saw her shudder and involuntarily hug herself.

"What did he do to you?" Timmy mused aloud, extending his arms out to her. She understood he wanted to comfort her, but she was the strong one here. If she had something to deal with, she'd do it on her own, without her godson's help. He had precious little left of his childhood as it was, she didn't need to add to his burden.

"Good night, Timmy."

"Wanda, wait. You can't keep your emotions and your memories bottled up like this, it isn't healthy. You're going to make yourself sick…and those nightmares won't go away by themselves. Even if you don't let me in, you have to let Cosmo in, he's your soul mate. Please, open up to one of us…" Timmy pleaded, eyes shining with tears. Her heart wrenched, but she ignored it. Whatever he wanted her to say to get him off her back, she'd say it. She had no intention of burdening anyone else, of course, but if he was that worried, she might as well say something.

"I…I will…" She lied, knowing by the look on his face her tale had fallen through. Wanda was too strong for her own good, she'd hurt herself and possibly others by doing this.

"No, you won't. Damn it, Wanda, why the hell can't you talk to one of us? We care about you!" Timmy snapped, biting his lip so hard, it drew blood. Buckteeth are rather sharp.

"That's exactly why I'm not saying anything!" Wanda blurted, heat rising in her face. "You two may care about me, but you have your own problems. I have no business adding to them- I didn't murder anyone and that's what you two are dealing with right now. Whatever happened to me is trivial-"

"Do you really believe that?" Timmy whispered, trying to force her to make eye contact. She was lying too much, and she was not an adept. Therefore, he could read her face and know she spoke no truth.

_No, of course I don't. I know what Juandissimo did to me is far from trivial…but I can't say that to him. It'll remind him of Lorenzo and that's all he needs right now, another reminder. I'll deal with this on my own, with no help from either of them. I've done it in the past and I'll do it again, it just takes extraordinary will power._

Waving her wand, she swiftly returned him to the realm of dreams, this time pleasant ones so he wouldn't wake up and ask obnoxious questions. These were the things that kept her up at night…These were the demons of her recent past; her cross to bear.

Biting her lip, she returned to the tree house, only to discover Cosmo was awake and tapping his foot angrily. She tensed, sensing another argument…only this one she might have difficulty worming her way out of. It was impossible to lie in telepathy, no matter how hard you tried. And God, did she want to try…

"Where were you? There was a ten minute period where I had no idea where you were!" Cosmo cried, wrapping his arms around her. Okay, so he wasn't angry, just worried. Good, that was easier to deal with and would ensure far less lies.

"I was with Timmy," She stated simply, taking pride in the fact that this was the truth, for once. Maybe he'd start inquiring as to his godson's health instead of hers.

Spinning her around, he kissed her swiftly, but she pulled out his embrace. Both were aware of what they wanted, but Wanda was hesitant to place herself in that situation again. She had this irrational fear of Cosmo being murdered atop her and then Juandissimo coming in to rape her…

((Wanda, what's the matter? We never talk any more, you're always off somewhere in the house, never speaking to me, and you act so cold…you're scaring me. You wake up screaming, but you won't tell me why, and every time I make a move on you, you start shaking- like you are now!)) Cosmo said, and he was right- she was trembling violently. Everything he spoke was true and, in telepathy, impossible to refute. Damn him…once in a while, he hit the jackpot.

"Cosmo, please, I don't need this right now…" She whispered, laying down but snatching the blanket in a futile attempt to veil her uncontrollable shudders. It did little, however, but communicate them greater. So much for that…

((But I wanna know why you're acting like this!)) Cosmo whined, taking his place beside her. Again, he wrapped his arms around her, and again, she stiffened. This time she didn't pull back, she just became a statue in his arms.

Sighing heavily, he buried his nose in her hair and inhaled her scent. She shivered, warming slightly to his touch. Maybe, just maybe, things would be different.

"_You are mine, mi amor…" Juandissimo…no…go away…why is it every time Cosmo holds me and tries to make love to me, you show up in my head? Why must you torment me? _

"Cosmo, please…let sleeping dogs lie…I'm really too tired to start anything like this…" Wanda pleaded, pushing away from him. As soon as she did, a cold anger seized him, communicated directly through the telepathy. Every night, she always had an excuse and he was getting pretty damn sick of them.

((Don't you find me attractive anymore? Apparently not, because you won't let me touch you. Am I that hideous, that you won't let me do anything? I know I'm not exactly a muscle bound, long hair blowing in the wind-))

"Shut up!" She screamed, tears burning the corners of her eyes. "Just leave me alone, Cosmo!"

Drawing her knees to her chest, she rolled away from him on the bed. Once again, her shoulders shook, this time with suppressed sobs. He probably hadn't referenced Juandissimo intentionally, but he had, nonetheless. And she couldn't stay here…

On the nightstand sat her wand and she snatched it off, knowing innately that, due to the high concentration of dark magic in her body, she truly didn't need it. Any time she wanted to, she could poof off, sans a wand, although it might mean a return to her old self. At this point, if it blocked Juandissimo from her mind, she was willing to try it.

"And now, look, you're going to run away again!" Cosmo snapped, pointing his finger at her as though she were damned. And, in her mind, she was. Damned to an eternity of Juandissimo infiltrating her dreams and her psyche, damned to never sleep again.

A surge of anger passed through her. Who was he to judge her? She was the mistress of her own domain, he didn't tell her what to do! And if she wanted to leave, well, she would!

It took her a minute to recognize those thoughts for what they were. The residues of dark magic hadn't died, as much as she'd hoped they would. Instead, they lingered, causing her to be spiteful and malevolent, if only to Timmy and Cosmo when they started those damn questions.

Didn't they understand she didn't want to talk about it? She wanted to pretend it'd never happened, that she was the same fairy she'd been months ago. All right, so she shook violently whenever someone said Juandissimo's name; seeing muscle bound males also caused her to shudder, as well as Spanish, and making love was now impossible. But she was basically the same…excluding the crying and the lack of sleep.

Glowering at her husband, she poofed off, not to the forest surrounding Dimmsdale Junior High like she'd planned, but in front of Timmy's bedroom. An ill formed idea in her mind to make sure he'd gone to sleep presented itself and any excuse she could get, she'd use. After all, if it was halfway legitimate, Cosmo and Timmy couldn't grill her on it.

By the time she'd arrived, she'd forgotten why she was there and began, practicing her human walking, to descend the steps. There was nothing downstairs, nothing but that mirror, the secret of which only she knew. Timmy would surely explode if he discovered who hid inside and she had no intention of telling him. Let him discover on his own.

"It's two in the morning, Wanda," the voice intoned, causing her head to turn. She waved her wand, presenting light, but the being inside remained hidden. Well, if it wanted to remain in hiding, she couldn't help.

Personally, she believed if it remained in hiding, she wouldn't have to deal with it. Let it live in the hell it'd created, the hell it'd chosen. It was of no consequence to her, either way.

Besides, if it left her alone, she wouldn't be subjected to the twenty questions. The creature was extremely shrewd, even after everything, and, after its closeness to her, it detected her lying and scorned it. Loath though she might be to admit it, the creature might care about her.

"You're not sleeping and now you're hiding from Cosmo. You suppose everyone in the house completely believes you and your lies and you're one hundred percent incorrect. No one's buying your act, not even your buffoon of a husband, and it's wearing thin. Sooner or later, you're going to have to deal."

Wanda scoffed, beginning to walk downstairs. Perhaps there was some chocolate in the refrigerator she could much on. Anything to take her mind off the truth.

And what was with everyone grilling her today? She'd think they wanted her to return to normal, not argue the pointless past. What was done was done, no matter how painful it was for her. (They didn't need to know that).

"You still have the dark magic inside you, I can see it. Take it from someone who's well acquainted with darkness….Hell, I'm standing in it right now." Here, the voice chuckled humorlessly, its shadow shifting.

Were she in a better mood, she'd smirk. For him, darkness was all too familiar an arena. She'd pity him, but, given the current state of affairs, anything regarding him was double edged.

And as far as the dark magic went, so what? What did _he _care? This was how he'd been born, not her! He didn't realize how much she detested what he'd turned her into…

"So what if I do? It's certainly no business of yours!" Wanda shot back, not even knowing why she was arguing with, in all technicalities, a mirror.

At least no one was up to notice this. Vicky and Mark were asleep in the basement, as usual; Timmy upstairs in the spell induced slumber, and Cosmo, hopefully, back asleep in the treehouse. This covered everyone in _this _universe, at any rate. She could hardly speak for Tootie.

"It is, simply because I'm the only one here that doesn't belong. I won't speak a word of it to anyone else because you're the only creature here aware of my existence, or, should I say, continued existence."

A gift, in all matters. In the past, her true form had taken pity on him, realizing he was genuinely attempting to reform. It hadn't been clogged by Juandissimo's actions, nor polluted by the past she couldn't fend off. Oh, what she'd give to return to it.

The creature within tapped a foot impatiently. However, it still did not approach the surface, where she could see it. Instead, it remained in the shadows, its expression indistinguishable.

"Wanda, I'm not asking for you to give me every sordid detail of your time with Juandissimo. I already knew three quarters of it, more than anyone else does. It might help to talk to someone, even if he's not really a person anymore."

Nor was he ever, in actuality. Although he'd been the first in a long time to attain a human form, which did not fully indicate his humanity. (Then again, there were others who were human and showed less humanity).

She turned in his direction, her wand held out. Anything she could think of would silence him, hopefully long enough so she didn't have to think about how correct the words were. What on earth did this creature think it knew?

The figure sniggered, but didn't move. In fact, were she able to shine a light inside the mirror, she would have seen it give her a rude gesture. However, she was glad to say she'd never been that curious.

"You're going to attack me? Amusing. I'm part of someone you love very dearly, you never could hurt me. No matter how much you're pushing everyone else away, I don't think you're going to harm a mirror," it snorted derisively and stepped up to the light shed by the mirror.

"After all, it's seven years bad luck." Lorenzo smirked. "And, given your recent bout of luck, I wouldn't risk it if I were you."

"What would you know about bad luck? You're dead!" Wanda snapped, tempted to smash her wand against the mirror. She, in fact, held it pressed against the glass. Lorenzo, pressing his hand against the other side, slid it away.

If he tried, he could just barely touch it. A surge of hope ran through him- perhaps, in due time, he could reach the outside world. Timmy was in the outside world. Timmy…

Being trapped in here was akin to dying, yes, but it was not the same thing. To be dead would mean he no longer functioned and he did, only within the confines of the mirror.

"I'm not dead," He replied quietly. "I'm just waiting for you to give me the opportunity to leave my prison."

"You don't deserve it," She retorted, aiming her wand at his forehead. He frowned, but remained stationary. Truthfully, her threats failed to upset him as she'd probably hoped.

What harm could she do to him while he was within the mirror? As trapped as he felt, it served as a barrier between them. Inside it, neither party could reach beyond their side.

"That wasn't what you'd said months ago. My dear fairy godmother, you've changed more than you think in the past few months. You're frightening everyone, especially the one you fought so hard to keep."

_And we both know damn well who I'm talking about._

"I'm not your fairy godmother!" She hissed, sliding her wand along the front. His eyes narrowed.

So she seriously believed she was going to hurt him? If only he could show her a thing or two…but that was what the mirror was for, wasn't it? To prevent the inevitable.

"That's besides the point. Why are you getting so worked up about something like this when you know the real issue? I'm through playing games with you, just talk about it," Lorenzo hissed, shoving at the wand. Surprisingly, it bounced back. So he _could _impact this world…

"Or what? You'll stop speaking to me?" Wanda snapped back, growing angrier by the second. Her defenses flared up and, whether in her mind or in actuality, she sensed her body turn black again. Fortunately, this proved to be only in her mind.

"Scoff all you want, you know I'm the only person you can actually talk to. You're too deeply attached to Cosmo and Timmy to open up to them. Around them, you have roles, duties you consider them, and if you pretend you're only concerned with that, you can steal away.

"With me, you have no established role, so the burden has been removed, somewhat. Feel free to speak your mind…" Lorenzo began, realizing immediately how like a monk he sounded. Dear Lord, a few months locked in a mirror was killing him.

"Fine, I will. Sod off, anti fairy! Stop butting into my personal affairs and thinking you can influence me!" Wanda snapped, pointing her wand at him again.

Instead of wincing, he smirked. Good…at least she was releasing some pent up frustration. A few more prods and then maybe he could force her into revealing something.

Of course, this theory had yet to work in practice. For all he knew, Wanda could blow the mirror into smithereens, walk away coolly, and pretend this night had never happened. Nothing was out of the realm of possibility right now, considering how high strung she'd become lately.

Coolly, he replied, "Is that so? That isn't what the old Wanda Juandissimo made would say, is it? C'mon, you can't tell me you've forgotten what he did to you so soon."

_Anyone _would rise to that bait, but someone under a great deal of stress would be a sight to see. It was a shame he didn't have a camcorder, but he was trapped in a bloody mirror! Gah…whose idea was this? He'd maim them.

Silence reigned and, for a split second, Lorenzo thought his plan had failed. Wanda had outsmarted him, despite the fact he had almost always remained ahead of the game, and now she was simply showing him up by not responding. Damn…she was the only game he had right now.

But no, he was wrong. Her face contorted and the fist clenching her wand snapped it in half. There was more fury burning in her than he'd even imagined.

"It's so easy for you to forget about what you did to Timmy because you were in _love_. You weren't him, you didn't feel what it was like to be torn apart from the inside, feel like someone's plaything, and generally being treated like garbage! You don't know what it's like to feel like you have no self worth!" Wanda snapped, trembling in anger. Her eyes narrowed to slits and if he looked hard enough, he could swear there throbbed a vein.

"And this is all about Timmy, right?" Lorenzo quipped, smirking. He folded his arms across his chest.

She glowered at him and raised her fist, sorely tempted to smash the mirror right that second. In fact, she smashed it against the glass and waited for the reflection to vanish. No more annoying Lorenzo DeMedici…

But nothing happened. A crack appeared in the mirror reflection and Lorenzo backed up, startled. However, other than a defect in the way he saw the world, he himself escaped unscathed. The mirror was merely a looking glass, nothing more.

He heaved a sigh of relief, grateful for the fact that, despite all his goading, she could not harm him from her side. It rendered his job much more efficient. After all, what good was it going to do her to smash his mirror other than cut up her own hand?

"Unless you've been speaking to Timmy a little too much and you've been inside his mind, I think you have your own issues. Even if you'd rather smash my mirror or me than confront them, it still shows you have more emotions instead of unconditional love and concern. You're angry, let it out," Lorenzo continued, watching her wary face. As he'd thought, she'd hurt herself punching the mirror and cracking her wand. Her right hand bled, but she sought to hide it.

"I don't have time for this!" Wanda retorted, biting back a painful cry. Intense anguish crossed her face and the thought occurred to him the shards may have imbedded themselves within her palm.

Closing her eyes, she attempted to poof off to the treehouse without her wand. Lorenzo watched, slightly amused, as her first few attempts caused her to plummet from midair. He hadn't thought she could still do that.

Finally, exhausted, she collapsed at the bottom of the mirror and he knelt down, sliding his fingers along where her hair touched his mirror. If he strained, he could almost feel her soft, scented pink hair. It gave him a giddy thrill, as though he could impact the outside world.

"Do you need a little help there?" He remarked dryly and she pushed against the floor and rose, leaning against the mirror. Yes, he could certainly smell her apple shampoo from here.

"What are you going to do, annoy me into poofing away?" She shot back, biting her lip hard. The pain was almost unbearable.

Very gently, he pushed against her left palm and she jumped, startled. Instead of the glass, she could swear she felt his hand. A nasty shiver shook her frame and she began to wonder if the mirror was in fact real at all.

She gasped, slowly backing away. Perhaps she'd spend the night in Timmy's room…or walk out of the house, climb up the staircase to the treehouse, and steal one of Cosmo's wands. That idea sounded much better to her, provided she didn't pass out from blood loss. She already felt woozy.

His eyes scanned her, scrutinizing the hand wound. If only he had his powers back, then he might be able to help her. The sparks in the wand had to help…or hurt, he had no idea.

For the first time, he saw the weakness in her eyes before she darted, unsteadily, out the door. Apparently, she overestimated her capacity because, when Cosmo and Timmy found her the next morning, it was certainly not in the treehouse.

-

Her hand was on fire…how on earth could she have fallen asleep with that pain? No one in their right minds could ignore that…

Then she remembered- she hadn't fallen asleep, she'd passed out at the base of the treehouse. Driven mad by the pain, she'd let out one desperate howl of agony before succumbing to the darkness.

Now, she could swear two beings hovered over her. If only the sun weren't in her eyes…and she could concentrate beyond her horrible, swollen, throbbing hand. God, how could she have been so stupid and risen to his bait? Grr.

"Wanda!" Cosmo cried, feeling her hand for lumps. She bit back another scream, tears springing to her eyes. Damn- if he just gave her his wand, she could heal herself. She wouldn't have to lie here in anguish.

"What happened to _you_?" Timmy asked, kneeling down her and feeling her forehead. Another useless measure; why couldn't either of them see she was capable of healing herself and give her the wand?

"Just give me your wand, Cosmo!" She snapped, reaching for it with her good hand. She wished immediately she hadn't moved at all. Any type of movement caused queasiness.

"No way! We're going to take care of _you_," Cosmo said, but Timmy, irritated, snatched his wand out of his hand. Thank the Lord someone in this family had sense. Although, she had to wonder why Cosmo would want to take care of _her. _She was the nurturer around here…

Timmy handed the wand to her and she quickly healed herself and poofed towards the kitchen, preparing breakfast the human way. Not a word was spoken between the three regarding her well being for the rest of the day.

-


	2. Sleepless in Dimmsdale

Author's Note: This chapter makes reference to Shrouded Silhouettes, chapter three. By now, I'm going to assume that you, the reader, are reading both. If you not, 'it's on you, not me'. And you'll be mighty confused…

Oh, and thank you to everyone that reviewed. Appreciate it. (I'd wink, but it'll be taken out).

Disclaimer: FOP will never be mine. Deal with it.

Chapter Two: Sleepless in Dimmsdale

Vicky tossed and turned, but did not sleep. Over the passing months, sleep had been a rarity and then, finally, non-existent. It was always something keeping her up at night, robbing her of that which she so sorely desired.

If she turned her head, she saw her husband, snoring comfortably. Of course _he _could sleep- he didn't have a ten-pound weight rolling around like a bowling bowl in _his _stomach. (Even if it wasn't ten pounds, it certainly _felt _that way).

Anger seized her again, as it usually did. By now, she'd grown accustomed to fury surging through her, causing her to strike out at anyone randomly. She'd progressed beyond Icky Vicky; beyond anything she'd ever been before…and, now, exhausted and apathetic, she let everyone have it. It didn't matter who they were, what they'd done through; they were all fair game.

Take Tootie for example, the rotten little runt that ran away for months at a time. When she came back here, she'd show her just what she thought of her. _No one _abandoned her, especially not her baby sister. She'd show her- after all, it was her fault she'd become pregnant. If she hadn't left for months at a time, she wouldn't have been alone in the basement with only her hormones and Mark to keep her company.

Thoughts of how she'd torture her entered her head. For one thing, Tootie wasn't going to escape without a beating. She'd return every ounce of emotional pain she'd delivered on her and then some.

Hmph…little brat. How _dare _she make her worry about her! Who did she think she was, walking out like that?

When she got her hands on her…

Mark awoke with a start and glanced over at her. During pregnancy, telepathy was the strongest ever, since their link had forged a person composed of, essentially, themselves. Since it resided within Vicky, her feelings, her emotions, conveyed so strongly over the link, reached Mark even within his dreams. The venomous nature startled him so much, he awoke.

"Dearest Vicky…" He yawned, stretching his arms and touching her shoulder. He glanced over at the clock, which read three a.m. What an ungodly hour…

"It is three o'clock…can you please calm down and go back to sleep?" Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he forced a drowsy smile, one she did not return.

"If you ever touch me, ever again, I'll rip off your balls, hard boil them, and cram them down your throat," Vicky growled, shoving his hand off her. Her frame shook with anger- so far, all through this _mistake_; he'd persisted in touching her. As far as she was concerned, entirely too much touching had occurred in the first place.

((Vicky…)) Mark sent with a sigh, although deigning not to touch her. It was hard to tell, these days, when she'd let him or not. (Although, most of the time, it was safe to say she wouldn't).

((I can take away the discomfort from your pregnancy and bear all the ills you bear now. Despite the fact you will remain pregnant, you will finally be able to sleep.))

Very gently, his hand brushed hers. She didn't smack him, thankfully, so he grasped her hand in his and squeezed gently. Although she seriously pissed off everyone else in the house, he could still tolerate her. After all, it was this form of her he'd fallen in love with, give or take a little malevolence.

"And what kind of trick is that? Voodoo magic?" She countered, removing her hand from his. Gain a step, slip back two…

((It comes from telepathy…please let me feel what you feel. I'm not saying I'll enjoy it, but you need to sleep- for all our sakes,)) He sent, touching her hand again. In order for this to work, contact had to be made. Ye gods, though, her hand was hot.

_And for everyone's sanity…I don't need you flipping out on poor Tootie when she returns, I really don't, _He thought, gazing past her into the recollections of her possible attacks on her sister. All of them, quite violent, caused him to shudder. Whenever that girl came home, all sides assaulted her. If he knew her better, he'd pity her.

But for now, managing Vicky took up a great deal of his time. He always had to be there, making sure she didn't go hog wild on anyone. And, since Timmy was the last person she'd seen, this she was certain of, he bore the brunt of her anger…unrelated to himself, of course.

He himself couldn't fathom her hatred for him. All he knew was it went far back into the past…but how far back he couldn't tell. Whenever he asked, she'd sock him hard in the balls and then change the subject.

That reminded him- he had to find a way to keep her from abusing him so much. He wasn't a plush doll; it really did hurt when she mangled him. And, since he was the one trying to maintain control, he wound up being whacked the most.

Sometimes, she'd apologize, but oftentimes, she'd smirk and tell him that if he didn't want it to hurt, he shouldn't have been born with balls. This, of course, made very little sense, but, seeing as she was pregnant, and, at the rate she was going, incapable of rationality, he let it slide. Besides, starting up an argument with her was like starting an argument up with Attila the Hun- better left unsaid.

Nothing he ever said seemed to be taken the right way, either. No matter what he said or did, nothing was good enough. Immediately, she'd take umbrage and he'd have to take cover, lest she strike him again.

Even though Mark had come from a warring planet, when he'd turned human, his instincts had changed. Combining with the fact he didn't wish to harm Vicky, he couldn't imagine harming anything anymore. (A thought that saddened him tremendously, were he able to think about it without Vicky charging off at her next victim).

Her brutal assaults upset him, to say the least. Most of the time, there was little or no provocation…and the results were bloody. When he finally managed to pull her off, the victim usually sported some sort of bloody appendage and was swearing up and down for revenge.

All the more reason to worry about Tootie, though. If she could beat Timmy over something trivial, what did it spell for her sister? As shown in the past, she had little compassion for anyone…and Tootie was no exception. In fact, by being her sister, it made her even more susceptible to abuse.

Meanwhile, Vicky mulled over his proposition. If it did in fact work, why not? In fact, let _him _deliver the kid, while he was at it. It was his _thing _that turned her into this.

With a wicked smile he disliked, she turned to him and said, "Well…if you're sure…"

_She's up to something…_

Grabbing her hand, he squeezed it, to start the link, when she absolutely bombarded him with her feelings, emotions, discomforts, and everything. This time, unlike before, he knew she was doing it on purpose…and it hurt like a bitch, too. Agony burst like fire in his mind and he fell to the bed, clutching his head between his hands.

For a good hour this went on, her absolutely massacring him with all these painful revelations. By the time she'd exhausted herself into sleep, he couldn't think. Every time he tried to do anything, even close his eyes, his senses were assailed.

It was going to be a long and acutely painful night…

-

Tootie stood blearily in the empty, darkened top floor of Dimmsdale's Public Library. She didn't think she had enough strength to walk out of here, much less walk home. Everything, the weakening of her defenses, finally sleeping with him only to be betrayed, and the trial had worn her out. All she wanted to do was shuffle home, collapse into his arms, and forget the woes of another world.

Without the transistor (and the aid of Cal…although not Daniela, who didn't appear to like her), she nearly fell down the stairs. She perched in the dark on a step and shuddered at the silence. Libraries, for her, were creepy enough with the librarians skulking around, but in the dead of night, nothing disturbed her further. And, given her emotional state, she was too exhausted to care. She'd sleep right here if she were given the opportunity.

Maybe she could spend a night here. It wasn't as though Timmy would notice another night…considering, according to Cal, she'd been gone five months. Unfortunately, this meant he had more ammunition against her, since he refused to believe anything she had to say. The longer she was gone, the worse she was in his eyes.

She couldn't do anything about it, either. How on earth was she supposed to know how long she was going to be gone? Was the time missing relative to how far the universe was from her own? Or did it have to do with how far the universe was as far as deterioration?

If she weren't so tired, she'd give it more thought. After all, it was certain she'd be alone during her stay here…however long that was. Jorgen hadn't seemed particularly poised to suddenly reappoint her. After all, she'd broken the one rule that he'd set out for her.

But was that entirely her fault? When she'd come home, after an absence she couldn't control, all she'd encountered was hatred. How on earth did they expect her to react when she was forced to become a soldier and then came home to abuse? Was she supposed to be happy?

Very carefully, she, not trusting her legs, slid down the stairs, one step at a time. At least with the rug, it wasn't as bad. Slowly…if she just made her way down charily, she'd be fine. No slip-ups…

Did Gary notice her absences as much as Timmy? Did he care? He claimed to care for her, but, after Timmy's heinous treatment, how could she be sure? Did anyone really care about her?

After all, her own sister, who admittedly had a tendency towards wickedness, blamed her pregnancy on her. Of course, since she'd just found out, she probably wasn't in a sane state of mind when she blamed her, but even so. It wasn't as though Tootie was calm either…and if it were up to her, she'd prevent her from ever becoming pregnant. She pitied the kid she had…there was no way she could be a good mother.

A sinking feeling settled in the base of her stomach. If Vicky was that bad the day she discovered her pregnancy, what could she be like now? She definitely wouldn't welcome her with open arms, which was for certain.

If only she could return to her own universe without meeting anyone she knew. Yes, she recognized the irony in that, returning home yet remaining a stranger. However, given the way she was bound to be received, she'd rather wander the streets.

Hunger gnawed at her- even though she'd only been gone, in her mind, three days, and those three days enabled her stomach to clamor for food. She'd never been less hungry in her life.

In fact, she'd never been less anything in her life. All she wanted to do was curl under a rock and live out of the rest of her miserable life. She'd never have any kids, she'd never be happy, so why bother to try?

Very weakly, afraid of the answer, she sent, ((Timmy? Timmy, are you awake?)) (As she had no idea of the time).

There was no response and she hung her head. Of course he wouldn't respond. Why should he? He hated her guts, he'd told her as much. The last time they'd spoken, he'd called her a crybaby and then had the gall to try to kiss her. What a dick.

But he was hers…or so she thought. For all she knew, he could have moved onto Trixie…tasted her…Just the thought of them together, like they had been before, while he was under Lorenzo's control, brought tears to her eyes. As angry as she was with him, as upset as he made her, as much as she hated it, she loved him dearly. Trixie and Timmy together made her feel as though her heart had fallen out and Vicky trampled on it.

Very carefully, she rose to her feet, ungainly though she was, and nearly fell over again. Where was Cal when she needed him? The last time she'd returned home, he'd been there to talk her through what had happened. Why had he skipped out on her?

_Because no one cares about you, _a voice whispered in her head. This was, as usual, the nasty little voice in her head. Recently, to keep her sanity, she'd begun to listen to it. It told her everything that she needed to know, like why everyone treated her like they did. They all hated her.

_No one ever cared about you. Timmy lied…isn't that clear? He's never been nice to you, never. When he couldn't use you, he used Trixie. And when you came back, all he wanted was you in bed with him. That's all he's good for, being a jerk._

Tootie shook her head, blinking back tears. No, she'd promised she'd never cry over Timmy again. He wasn't worth her tears…so why were they coming? Why did it hurt so much to think that Timmy could possibly be lying?

((Timmy…please wake up…)) She sent again, weakly. If he was asleep and woke him, he'd probably be angrier with her than anything else she could do. She had no right to seek him out…she had no right to anything.

Once again, there was no response. Angrily, she brushed away the tears that sprang up again. At this rate, she was ready to beat herself up over this.

_Get a grip, Toot. No one loves you, especially him. Get over it._

Feeling as though her arms were leaden, she pushed open the door. Unfortunately, it only budged an inch, acting as sluggish as she was. Damn door.

Cold air brushed past her and she wondered what month it was. Let's see…the last time she was home, it was about March. But the cold air brushing past her wasn't chilly; instead, it was rather balmy. In fact, if she didn't know any better, she'd say it was about July.

This meant she'd missed Timmy's birthday…just another reason for him to hate her. If Wanda hadn't returned, that meant he'd spent it alone, with only Cosmo to keep him company (some company _that _was).

What a miserable birthday…much like her own. She hadn't even been in this universe for her own birthday; she'd turned thirteen alone. No one had known it was her birthday, and she hadn't said a word. She'd let it slip by, like so many other things.

Twilight, the perfect hour to muse. With Cal and Daniela away and Timmy not answering, all she had were her thoughts. With no one to contradict her, she was free to hate herself to her heart's desire.

She was the perfect soldier in a war she was dragged into fighting. This meant sparing herself the precious feelings she'd prided herself on before and becoming someone she'd formerly hated, but now understood- Vicky. Although she hadn't grown up as cold and alone as her, she recognized apathy when she saw it.

But, in her heart of hearts, she didn't want to be alone like her. She wasn't like her; she'd never wanted to hate people. All she'd wanted was love…and, in the absence of it, what was she to do?

Vicky had grown up cruel, malicious, and the epitome of everything Tootie had never wanted to be. Since their parents were too afraid of her to properly punish her, she'd become unruly and believed she could step on everyone.

But Tootie didn't know why she'd been vindictive in the first place. What could influence her at such an early age? What had she been privy to that Tootie hadn't? Moreover, why was it her introduction hadn't made Vicky try to win her over to her side? Why did she hate her immediately?

A cold anger seized her- what right had Vicky to be apathetic? If she'd wanted to, she could have garnered all her parents' love and affection. If she'd been pleasant just once, Tootie was sure she could have had any boy she wanted. There was no reason, as far as she could see, for her actions.

_She _hadn't grown up with parents too terrified to touch her. _She _hadn't been systematically deprived of everything that gave her joy. _She _hadn't an older sister dedicated to making every single moment of her childhood pure misery.

And _she _hadn't finally discovered the boy she'd longed for so long, the only boy that she'd ever wanted, liked her only to turn on her. _She _didn't know what it was like to wake up screaming because of what she'd done to others, things she hadn't even wanted to do. _She _didn't have someone else's death hanging over her head.

_She _had the person just for her, the person that loved her. In fact, they'd even had a child together…if she'd given birth already, which Tootie did not know yet. But she'd made a family with the person that made her whole…and what had Tootie made? A big mess.

God, what Tootie would have given to be there for him when he was suicidal. He had no idea how badly she wanted him, how much she still wanted him, even after the way he treated her. There was nothing she wouldn't do for him, although, at this rate, she wouldn't tell him that. He didn't deserve to know.

For the first time in her life, though, she realized she was jealous of her older sister. No matter how cold, cruel, and malevolent she was, she had everything Tootie had ever dreamed of. And, of course, she didn't appreciate one bit of it.

Why should she? She was much happier ridding others of that which gave them joy than anything else. Leeches were kinder.

((Timmy!)) Tootie cried, stopping by a lamppost. Her feet dragged terribly and her legs buckled under her. Perhaps the transistor could convert into a vehicle to take her home…now, if only she could recall where she'd put it.

((Timmy…I'm here…don't you care?)) _Please care…please say that you love me…that I didn't do what I did in vain…_

_I wish it'd been you…God, I wish we'd done that…_

_Can't you see what happens when I'm not with you? I fall apart. Already, I'm ripping at the seams._

Yet again, there was no response and her heart sank. Tears blinded her vision- no; she swore she'd never cry over him again. He wasn't worth it, damn it. He was worthless…no one deserved to make her cry.

Clinging to the lamppost, she sobbed her heart out. True, no one deserved to make her cry and she'd sworn to herself that she'd never cry over him again, but how could he treat her like this? And crying was fine…as long as she didn't get caught.

As soon as she accepted this as a veritable truth, she broke down entirely. Sobs wracked her frame and her vision blurred from tears. Why couldn't Timmy see how much she needed him? Why did he have to be so damn selfish?

Around her, nothing hooted, chirped, or otherwise commented and, through a cloudy gaze, she recognized the place with a shudder. It looked as though it hadn't been inhabited in months, but it still felt the same. Glancing upon it sent a chill down her spine and a rather unsettling nausea. Yes, this place held many recollections for her, none of them in the slightest bit pleasant.

Forcing herself up, she staggered for a few steps before collapsing again. She didn't know how she'd done it, but she'd managed to lose strength right in front of The Other's mansion. Perhaps there was just something about this place that drew your energy.

Like he'd drawn Timmy's oh-so long ago. Back when Timmy lived here, when he'd connived to kill his godparents. She had no idea what he'd done to him, since she'd never had the opportunity to talk to him about it, considering her damn missions.

Which reminded her- he'd never been kind to her, had he? Whenever he _had _acted nice, the reason was always two-fold. Maybe she wasn't worthy of him…or he wasn't worthy of her. With the tears cascading down her front, she was more likely to believe the former.

After all, he could have the pick of the litter, now that the whining brat was out of the way. If he didn't believe in telepathy like the Timmy in the last universe, with Katrina, then she could be in real danger of losing him. Again, her heart panged.

School was an ample time for them to meet and lament, or whatever it was he was doing. They would see each other at least twice a day, if she were only in his lunch and gym, and perhaps more. It wasn't inconceivable (although it was rather painful) that he might turn to her for comfort…and she might give it to him. After all, Tootie herself had been weak enough to fall for the concept of 'comfort'.

Speaking of comfort, there was slim comfort in the fact that, if the school year had indeed ended, she'd missed Gifoalski by a few months. Unfortunately, there was always next year…provided something hadn't happened to him. For some odd reason, she could easily imagine someone really socking it to him, perhaps in a lethal way.

Unfortunately, although the gym teacher had been priggish, nasty, and perhaps a pedophile, she didn't really care _what _happened to him. It wasn't as though, in those days when she'd ventured off into other worlds (here, it was months), she'd wasted her time thinking about _school_. School, in her mind, was an extra-curricular activity…and the real subject she had to pass was surviving all those horrible days in alternate universes.

For a split second, she thought she felt something tug in her mind. It only lasted briefly, however, but it gave her a spark of hope. Timmy, for all she knew, could be fast asleep and his response was a subconscious one. Even if it was, it meant he could receive her and maybe, just maybe, he could find it in his heart to forgive her.

No…she was too much of a dreamer. He'd never forgive her for this, if she could find the words to describe exactly what she was doing.

But she had two people to tell about her missions, right? So why not him? If he knew…then he'd forgive her. He'd have to.

Honesty was the best policy…and God, how she'd yearned to be honest with him. To have him finally understand her and then, believe her…it'd be like a dream come true.

Something scurried over her subconscious and scanned her memories. She blinked furiously, her tears abating somewhat. What on earth? Who could have access to this?

Unless…No!

Gripping the transistor, which Jorgen had neglected to take from her, she concentrated hard on the steel rod in her hands. In its stagnant form, it looked perfectly ordinary. However, in her hands, she converted it into something that, if Timmy weren't conscious to transmit, would show her his thoughts regarding her.

Like most things the transistor turned into, she hadn't known they'd existed until the instant they materialized. Useful device Lorenzo had stolen and, in the hands of someone with good intentions, a lifesaver.

After a few seconds, his actual projection appeared. He was, as she'd thought, asleep. However, the projection vanished, replaced by his mental one. This one wore an ugly look, his wrists scarred from slashes and his bones showing.

Had all this happened in her absence? But cutting, how could he do that? Why would he want to hurt himself?

Abruptly, the projection opened its mouth and spoke. Instead of being grateful for her presence, it uttered the one thing weighing most heavily on her mind. The bottom dropped out of her stomach and, although she'd sought to rise again, she fell.

"Whore," His mental projection spat at her and she gasped. No…he'd seen it…

Responding to an unconscious, unspoken thought, the transistor converted itself to a teleportation pod. Maybe if she woke him up, she could get to the bottom of this. She could interrogate him and finally, tell him the truth.

If only she weren't so tired- all she wanted was a nice, long slumber… for the rest of eternity. Like before, she could fall asleep anywhere, be it in the library or on the streets of Dimmsdale. All that mattered was she'd finally rest.

Just for a second, she closed her eyes…and immediately fell asleep. The transistor fell from her hands and became a beckon, begging anyone within the vicinity to come to her rescue. Soon, she'd find out how true her hypothesis was.

-

Gary, awakened by an odd, high-pitched shriek, jerked under his slide. Hmm…well, this was peculiar. Why on earth would he awake randomly?

He'd been in the midst of a nice dream, too, a rather pleasant one. Tootie had returned from wherever she'd been and immediately abandoned Timmy for him. She'd flung him aside and then started making out with Gary. He'd just placed his hands on her hips and slid them inward when he'd awoken.

He smiled softly, rubbing his eyes. Wouldn't it be grand if his dream turned into reality? If she was indeed back from whence she'd came and the person she saw stole her heart?

Of course, they both knew her heart had already been stolen by one Timmy Turner, but there was always hope of stealing it again. After all, with the way he'd treated her lately, whom else did she have to turn to?

One thing was for certain; however- he'd best locate her before his nemesis did. The last time, when he'd found her too late, she'd fled the scene. Whatever moronic thing he'd done or said had caused irreparable damage- and Gary had to prevent it from occurring again. She had to know _someone _cared about her, even if it wasn't Timmy.

He wasn't good for her anyway, making her cry like that. Every time he saw her crying over him, he wanted to run up to the jerk and rip his balls out, trample on them a bit. How _dare _he hurt such a sweet girl!

Did he really care about her the way he thought, though? Whenever he thought about her, he wanted to protect her from harm, but why? Had she stolen his heart, or were there other reasons?

An inclination to blame Timmy presented itself. After all, Timmy was his sire and any of his feelings or emotions, suppressed when he was released but still prevalent, could have been released as well. For all he knew, he could have had a thing for Tootie back then, but hid it. Telepathy only occurred in soul mates…so maybe he'd felt an attraction to her three years ago. Since Gary was part of him, the feelings towards Tootie could easily be shared.

Another possibility appeared- he only wanted Tootie because it would hurt Timmy terribly. The further he got with her, the more it'd hurt him. And, if he could sleep with her, Timmy would be devastated. He'd achieve what he knew Timmy wanted badly, even if he couldn't stop arguing with her. If he could swallow his pride, Gary knew Timmy'd do anything to taste her.

But did he want her as a conquest or something more? Already, Tootie would return in an unstable emotional state. If he tried (probably not that hard, either), he could probably have her.

However, something told him he didn't want her just because his hormones had kicked in. She meant more to him than that…which was why he had to keep her to himself. Timmy was no good for her and, in time, she'd realize this.

Yawning and stretching, he jumped to his feet and decided the best way to wake up was to go for a quick jog to locate her. It wasn't as though he'd been sleeping terribly deeply, anyway- sleeping under a slide tended to make you a little leery.

And, when he did find Toot, perhaps he could sneak into Timmy's house and take a shower. Smelling badly, not cool. (He hadn't a shower in a while, no wonder he reeked).

As it was summer, the early morning breeze was none too cold, although it felt a trifle odd jogging in the middle of the night. But, as he reminded himself steely, this was for Tootie's benefit and not his. _She _could clearly not survive living on the streets, whereas he could. Besides, if she had a place to go, it was his job to make sure she got there safe.

His feet pounded the pavement, the only sounds made in the bitter dark of night. Before long, his legs took him to another place he'd wished he'd never see again- Lorenzo DeMedici's old, creepy mansion. No one knew exactly what happened to him, only that, a few days after school ended, he'd vanished. Many a rumor floated around, and, after a while, they had a funeral for him with an empty casket.

The recollection caused Gary to smirk. If indeed he'd died, that meant Timmy had finally stopped him, once and for all. Although he could care less either way, he knew Lorenzo disliked Tootie immensely and his death might prevent one more person from harming Tootie.

There she lay, her frame thin and emotionally fragile. Just the sight of her took his breath away…he moved closer. In the darkness, she almost blended in with the sidewalk.

"Tootie…" Gary breathed, for once not bothering to shorten her name any more than it was already. He knelt down to her and stroked her hair. God…just as gorgeous as the last time he'd seen her.

Tenderly, like a lover's touch, he scooped her up into his arms. Her head lolled from side to side, ultimately resting on his chest and, for a brief second, he wondered why he should bother taking her to Turner's at all. All he'd do was abuse her. Wouldn't she be safer out here, with him?

Tears brimmed beneath her eyes; he brushed them away from her eyelids. Whatever she dreamt about that caused her pain; he'd do anything to fix it. And, of course, he thought he had a damn good idea why she was suffering.

Which brought him back to his previous point- why return her to a place where she was doomed to suffer? What kind of person would he be to place her in a home that abused her? How on earth could he sleep at night knowing Tim-Tim made her cry?

And cry she did. Whatever on earth she was dreaming about, it appeared to cause her a great deal of grief. Tears welled up in her eyes, and, when he wasn't brushing them away, they slid down her cheeks.

His heart ached for her…and his fists clenched in rage. He didn't care if Timmy was dreaming of his parents taking him to Disney World; he'd wake up to a punch first thing. No one got away with treating her like this, no one!

"Timmy…" She breathed, unconsciously stroking his face. Grand, another instance where she thought he was him. Well, she could think that all she wanted until he got somewhere safer.

Carefully, he walked the best way he knew how to Timmy's house. Although he hated his guts, as long as he kept a strict eye on him (and maybe shoved him down a flight of stairs so he couldn't hurt her), she might be all right. Sure, there might be Vicky as well, but he'd deal with that when it came up.

For some unfathomable reason, she felt lighter to him; even though he had to profess he hadn't spent much time holding her before. (That was all going to change, however. The only Timmy would be left holding was his severed balls when he was done with him).

She continued to whisper his name, tears springing to her eyes, but she did not rouse. In more ways than one, she looked drained. Apparently, she was so tired; she didn't realize he was carrying her through Dimmsdale.

There was something odd about her, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. It was as though something had changed about her, but not here. In a different world, perhaps.

Before long, he halted, in Dimmsdale Park. Despite her airy weight in his arms, she really did weigh something and he couldn't possibly lug her all across town in one go. Besides, it wouldn't hurt to just rest here for a minute…

Lying on the bench, his arms tightly wrapped about her as she, in her slumber, clutched him; he shut his eyes for a minute…

-

The being formerly known as Remy Buxaplenty paced the hardwood floor of Lorenzo's abandoned mansion. Every once in a while, his eyes would flash in dull, empty anger, and he'd mutter something under his breath in French. The words were meaningless in common day French, but they carried a dark connotation. Months had passed since his beloved had been laid to waste by Cosmo, and he hadn't forgotten.

His blonde hair fell down to his shoulders now, but he cared little. In fact, he barely remembered to care for anything but his lost love and his hatred for Cosmo. When Eschcolex dined upon his soul, the only thing left was the pain he'd felt at the moment. His sole purpose was to destroy the one who had destroyed his love.

If one glanced into his eyes, they'd have recoiled in disgust. Instead of his cold blue gaze, they were now bottomless pits, devoid of any life. In fact, were it not for the fact that Eschcolex had animated him for his amusement (toying with fairies, when he could, proved to be quite enjoyable), he'd be dead. Soulless creatures did not survive for more than a few weeks and Remy was only kept alive by stolen magic.

However, although Remy and the fairies were interesting, he didn't hang around. There were other souls to steal, other beings to manipulate. The longer he stayed here, the more he missed.

So he'd left Remy here, although the boy could no longer remember the significance of the mansion. In fact, the only two names registering were "Cosmo" and "Juandissimo. Even their utterance registered minimally.

"Merde," The towheaded boy muttered, casually kicking aside a book in the library. It fell open on its spine and the boy scoffed. Foolish anti fairy magic, completely powerless. The only power lay in totally disabling your opponent and then laying claim to their essence.

Oh, how he wanted one of his own. It did not matter whose it was (preferably Cosmo's), but to have that power back…

If he acquired a soul, that did not mean he was alive again. To the contrary, Remy Buxaplenty would never live again. Whenever Eschcolex grew weary of him, his body would halt in its functions and he would cease existing. This was all part of the fine print of their contract.

However, acquiring a soul meant he could kill its owner. If Cosmo's beloved did not retrieve it in a timely manner, Cosmo would fall into a premature rigor mortis and he could steal his breath. In one split second, he could cut off his oxygen supply and, devoid of a soul; he would be unable to fight back.

The thought of Cosmo dying did not fill him with the sort of malicious glee The Other had in the past. No emotions flooded his senses, for there were none to be had. He was going to kill Cosmo because this was his mission. There was no other reason.

Fortunately, time was his ally. He'd bide his time…take it when he was the closest to _her. _Then they'd see…they'd all see…

Remy Buxaplenty laughed hollowly and, around him, echoed the sounds of death.

-

Timmy Turner's dreams were not as pleasant as Tootie might have thought. He tossed and turned, hearing her telepathy but uncertain as to whether he'd conjectured it or whether it was real. Whatever the case, her voice haunted him.

Dreams, like memories, flooded his subconscious. Although he supposedly slept through the whole night, he woke up more tired than when he'd gone to sleep.

-

Lorenzo DeMedici paced his small mirror and sighed heavily. One of these days, he'd force the truth out of her. And, if he lived to tell the tale, she'd be happier.

For some odd reason, her happiness was more important to him than it had ever been. For God's sake, he'd spent most of his life trying to kill her! Why on earth should he care whether or not she was happy?

Maybe he wanted her to be happy because she was Timmy's fairy godmother. That was probably it…

But that didn't explain why he'd deliberately provoked her. He only provoked people he liked like that, which would mean he liked her…

Scowling at himself, he sat down on the stone floor of his chamber and pondered this. There was no way he was attracted to the fairy that given him the most trouble. Simply put, it was impossible.

Besides, they were two different creatures. He was a half human, half anti fairy, and she was completely light. Well, almost- she still had the dark aura about her. Darkness…

Perhaps it wasn't her he was attracted to, but the dark magic lingering about her. All the could bes...

Sleep overtook him before he could deny anything more.


	3. Denial

Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who reviewed. I do appreciate it, the new fans and the old.

Disclaimer: Fairly Oddparents does not belong to me. However, the ideas introduced in The Other Saga do, including telepathy, mental attacks, and especially Lorenzo DeMedici. Steal him and I will make life very difficult for you very quickly.

Chapter Three: Denial

(Timmy Turner's room, 3:00 a.m. PST)

Timmy awoke with a start and gazed about. Tootie's voice still echoed in his head, for some unfathomable reason. Maybe it was because he hadn't heard it in so long, he'd started dreaming of her. The peculiar thing was, he couldn't remember having any dreams with her in it.

Not that he wanted her to be in his dreams, right? It wasn't as though he dreamt every night of holding her tightly, rocking her to sleep, and waking up to her beautiful face. Plus, it wasn't as though he dreamt of kissing every inch of her, making love to her, and never letting her go ever again. He _never _had dreams like that…more than twice a night.

Every morning, after he awoke from such dreams, he felt the drudgery, the emptiness of a life without her. Damn it, he _wanted _to wake up with her snuggled up against him, her head resting neatly on his chest as his arms wrapped about her waist. He wanted to feel her velvet skin under his hands as he caressed her back. Yes, he wanted all of these things and so much more, but he'd never admit to it.

No matter how deeply he did indeed love her (and it was thoroughly impossible to deny this, given their telepathy); he pretended he didn't. It eased the ache of her vanishing and made the long absences less painful to bear. He longed for her, god, how he longed for her, but he wasn't going to give into it just yet.

Besides, there still remained his anger and resentment towards her. Everything he looked at these days, it seemed, filled him with ambivalence. He couldn't help it, he was just so angry all of the time. He thought, perhaps, he'd forgotten what it was like to be happy.

Around him, nothing moved and, glancing at the fishbowl told him it was empty. Wanda _had _fled after putting him to sleep, he realized. She'd used it to end the particularly painful conversation and avoid talking about things she couldn't handle. The thought angered him and saddened him at the same time. Although he himself had been reluctant to tell anyone of his experiences, he'd done it and he thought Wanda should as well, instead of hiding behind her magic.

Magic was a convenient excuse, he'd found. It dulled the pain of everyday life and replaced it with an easy to swallow capsule. He'd used it for too long, become dependent on its soothing effects, and so, fallen victim to its seductive nature. Magic, like sleep, could ease one's problems, he'd discovered. However, given Cosmo's reluctance to use magic to aid his godson, he'd deigned to use sleep instead.

At least in his dreams, he could finally be with those denied to him. Surrounded by his friends, family, and, of course, Tootie, he sensed the glimmer of happiness robbed of him in his waking hours. While his parents never left his side, Tootie clung to him for dear life and he realized, this was all he'd ever wanted. No fancy magic, just a girl who loved him unconditionally and parents who cared about him.

Why had he been so selfish? So what if an evil babysitter attempted to ruin his life? He'd had the love of his parents and Tootie, which should have satisfied him. Alas, but it did not, and he was left with the shards of what might have been, the recurrent stabbing of a cumbersome hindsight he both acknowledged and rued.

If only he could return to the past and prevent Lorenzo's rising, how things would be different. Nonetheless, although he'd asked Wanda, she'd firmly rejected this idea. Fairy World now knew about Lorenzo and the creation of magical beings could not be undone, only recorded. In order to have the wish passed, he'd have to ask Jorgen, who, unfortunately, refused to hear anything regarding him for the rest of his time with his godparents. He'd had quite enough of his interference, thank you.

There were rumors Jorgen was occupied with another project that consumed a great deal of his time. What this project was remained a mystery to the general public, but, from what Wanda had garnered, a child of immense importance may have befouled an operation. Unfortunately, she hadn't been able to make heads or tails of this, so, despite relaying it to him, it heralded no significance.

A solitary breeze, shifting the blue curtains, entered the room. In the dim, darkness, he recalled his parents, who would always get up early in the summer days to do things around the house and then spend time with him. Nevermore, thanks to Lorenzo.

In fact, it'd been over a year since they'd died, not counting when he'd brought their ghosts back. Sure, they'd been good in the end, but he'd lost them again. According to the What-If spell, he would never have had them anyway. That stung him more than he could say.

Sometimes, in his heart of hearts, he preferred the illusion and wished he'd never seen the What-if Spell. Blind faith and hope were so much better to seeing things for what they were and The Other for the conniver that he was. When Lorenzo had control over his mind, he prevented him from feeling anything and now, that was all he wanted, the death of emotion. Sleep gave him this, but not for long.

Through it all, Cosmo and Wanda had proved their love for him (although his jury was still out on Cosmo, seeing his reactions to Wanda's disappearance). So it seemed, they were the ones who did love him. Then again, they were his fairy godparents, so they were supposed to. And, at this rate, they were the only parents he had.

Tootie certainly didn't love him, disappearing all the time without an explanation. All he wanted was one sentence telling him where she was and he'd be happy, but could she give him that? No, of course not. (The fact remained no one in this universe he had contact with, aside from someone he didn't know was still alive, albeit in a fixed state, had knowledge of her whereabouts.)

And when she'd come back, it was his right to treat her as he did. She'd missed everything important in his live and caused _him _emotional pain while she was strolling around and doing whatever the hell it was somewhere else. He bet she was having the time of her life and then just came back to check in before gallivanting off again. That'd be just like her.

Well, fine, let her have her fun. He didn't love her anymore, anyway, right? She was so passé. He had someone else, didn't he? Okay, he didn't and Trixie Tang wouldn't let him get within a foot of her without running and shrieking.

Thanks to Gifoalski (who had mysteriously disappeared like Tootie, only, unlike her, he hadn't returned), most girls in the school were fairly convinced he was gay or, in the very least, bisexual. They figured if they dated him, he might cheat on them with a guy, so they didn't take that chance. Let the weirdo Tootie sort out of the mess that was his love life, if she claimed to love him so much. (Not, in their opinion, was there much hope of doing so).

Rumors of his parents' death still circulated, too. Up to the last day of school, people continued to hypothesize what exactly had happened and try to figure it out for themselves. At least once a day he was subjected to a poignant question regarding his involvement in the affair and, when he refused to answer, they'd respond with a cruel, "I knew it! He did it!" as though he were some sort of criminal. So, not only was he either gay or bisexual, but he was a murderer as well.

Hmph, that lumped him in the same category as Lorenzo. Throw in an accusation of rape and then they'd have their beloved principal completely fathomed. Then again, no matter what he'd said, no matter how much he protested, no one quite believed him about Lorenzo. He was too perfect to be tainted by some queer boy's comments.

It was ironic, though, that he suffered one of the worst reputations in the history of Dimmsdale Junior High and the person/anti fairy who really deserved it didn't suffer a thing. In fact, he got off scotch free. No one dared incriminate him, since he appeared to be above common law.

If he'd joined him, then he might too enjoy this status. Then again, he'd be just like him…and he'd be minus his fairy godparents, the only creatures in the world who gave a damn about him. (Although, once again, his inner jury was still out on Cosmo).

On some level, he despised himself for creating him. He'd been the Frankenstein, bringing such a terror alive, but was it his fault he'd run amuck? Could he have really controlled him, if he tried? Somehow, he sincerely doubted that. Lorenzo did whatever, whenever he pleased, no matter Timmy's protests.

But what if he'd had some way to punish him for his actions? Sure, he'd killed him, but it hadn't been as deeply satisfying as he'd wanted it to be. Instead of the great anger extinguishing, it merely waned and then returned in full strength. He thought he'd staked his thirst for vengeance, but it still claimed him.

He hadn't made him suffer enough, he reasoned. In the deepest, darkest part of his soul, he'd longed for Lorenzo to scream in anguish, to feel as he had when he'd brutally invaded him. He wanted him to feel it as he had, to be betrayed by someone he'd thought loved him. Then again, The Other knew by then Timmy didn't love him, but even so.

He'd wanted him to die repeatedly, to feel as he'd made his victims feel. Dying once just wasn't good enough for him. Death killed the pain- he wanted it to be never-ending.

And, as he suffered rape over and over again, death over and over again, and then, in the end, being beaten all over again, perhaps he'd be satisfied- as long as he could watch. He wanted to languish in his misery, to laugh cruelly at his pain. With every fiber of his being, he hated him, loathed him, and despised him. He was everything Timmy had never wanted to be, and now, Timmy wanted to be it only because it made him suffer.

He hadn't told anyone about this, of course. Wanda would be shocked and outraged, to say the least, and probably worried. She'd wanted a perfect godchild, well, if not perfect, then someone she didn't need to concern herself with day and night. Besides, she couldn't understand this pain, at least, as far as he knew.

So he sat and stewed over it in the early hours of the day and concentrated on what he'd do to him if he had, somehow, magically, rose from the dead. The thought gave him great pleasure, to imagine all sorts of exquisite torture meted out just for him. Oh, what he'd put him through, if only he could.

Again, the weak semblance of telepathy reached him, jerking him out of his thoughts and into the here and now. Near the verge of tears, Tootie clamored for his attention. Once again, her emotions toyed with his and he longed to both cry because of her and scream because of his own feelings regarding her.

He didn't give her the satisfaction of responding. Let her languish alone, as he had before. He didn't care about her, right?

_Tootie…_He thought, exhaling sharply. Tears sprung to his eyes and he hurriedly ground his fists, diffusing them. Tears were for the weak, after all. He'd chastised her for crying and here he was, frustrated with himself for rejecting her when they both needed each other.

Perhaps she would come home and give him an explanation. If it was satisfactory, he'd release all of his pent up anger and aggression on something harmless, like that peculiar mirror in the hallway, and kiss her until the end of time. He'd show her just how much she meant to him and then some.

But if it wasn't, he'd wish the telepathy away and let her pursue anyone else she wanted, as long as it wasn't him. In fact, he'd personally shove her in Gary's direction, let _him _deal with her. After all, he claimed to love her.

Swallowing hard, he attempted to locate her in Dimmsdale but he could not. All he could do was either prey for gorgeous sleep to lull him out this reality and into a false one or that she would return soon to his arms. In either case, he'd just have to sit and wait.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>

(The treehouse, 3:30 a.m. PST)

Wanda too sat and waited, but this time for sleep to claim Cosmo. Contrary to her hopes, it hadn't happened yet and he remained awake to inquire particularly painful things. He'd reached for her to hold her only to have her jerk away and suppress sobs. It was only natural, from his point of view, to want to hold her if she was crying, but she'd have none of it. She'd deal with this on her own.

_Because I'm doing so well right now_, Wanda thought sardonically, pulling away from another one of his embraces. His face fell and his lower lip quivered, but, unlike before, she would not succumb to his charms. Moreover, she wanted nothing more than to cry in his arms, but that would make her weak and she was far from it.

Very gently, as though appeasing a wild animal, he stroked her hair. Stroking her hair wasn't terribly bold, he admitted. Then again, it wasn't anything she could misconstrue, either, so it left him in the clear. Moreover, if she let him do this, there was a possibly she'd let him do other things as well. (Plus, her hair was always so smooth and silky).

She, through sheer will alone, forced herself to calm slightly. Only slightly, because relaxing completely was out of the question. As badly as she wanted to, she would not submit to him or any man ever again.

Shifting position, he maneuvered himself so he could look her in the face, but she, turning away, clenched her eyes shut. Eyes were the window to the soul and Cosmo would see what she desperately hid in her telepathy. He couldn't handle her pain, no one could, so she locked it away. She was normal, wasn't she? Nothing extraordinary had happened to her.

Every time she thought that, she weaseled past the worst of Juandissimo's treatment of her and focused only on the little things she could control. Lamentably, it didn't work quite as well as she'd hoped, since every time she attempted it, she forgot for only a minute before the pain doubled deep within her. Unlike Timmy, whose outlook on life was anger and surges of it, hers was denial, plain and simple. She was fine, so stop asking.

"Wanda," He whimpered, sounding like a caged animal. Tears flooded her shut eyes and she swallowed hard again. Neither of them could stand the other acting like this.

>>Let me feel your pain,>> Cosmo whispered in her mind and moved closer to her. She backed up immediately. What pain? She had no pain…that he could possibly know about. More tears assailed her as she denied it.

"I…I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about, Cosmo," She replied coolly, although her voice trembled just as badly she was right now. It'd taken a great effort to prevent her tears from being heard in her speech aloud- imagine how disastrous it would be to have it in telepathy, where she could hide nothing.

"Yes, you do!" Cosmo snapped back, sobbing behind her. His hands trembled to touch her, but, this time, he held back. Despite the fact it had been months since dark Wanda had vanished, he still didn't entirely trust her. They both knew it.

It was in the hesitation when he touched her, the way he sometimes looked her when he thought she wasn't glancing at him and his shudder. The dark magic had polluted her and turned her into something she was not, but, unfortunately, had to deal with. As much as everyone wanted, she could not rid herself of it and could not become the fairy she had previously been.

Was that the key? That, no matter what she did, she couldn't go into the past and prevent what had occurred? She was different, forever changed by that muscular freak, and she had to accept it. Was she ready to, though? Could she possibly hold onto that idea without rejecting it instantly?

She hung her head, ashamed. Although, truthfully, it didn't take much to start him up, she didn't really want to make him cry. Plus, whenever he started crying, she started crying as well. Already, tears threatened to burst through her shut eyes and cascade down her cheeks.

Oh, how she loathed it when he cried. He was such a child at times…but she still loved him. It was only when he was a child that she worried now, because that meant she had to comfort him and possibly confront her own emotions.

Like the softest caress, she felt him pull for her emotions and she released a wave of anger instead. How _dare _he try to read her instead of talking to her! What right did he have to go through her mind like, like _him_! Why, he was no better than Juandissimo!

Wave after wave erupted through her, like a mental attack only, since Cosmo had no defenses and hadn't anticipated this at all, he slumped over. God, she'd knocked him out. All that raw pain and anger, although not entirely regarding him, she hadn't known she'd possessed it. Oh, Cosmo…

Trembling just as badly as before, she crawled over to him and stroked his cheek. She hadn't meant to hit him as hard as she had, but she couldn't help it. Her emotions were out of control, especially around him. She was just so sick and tired of putting herself in order.

Contrary to what she'd believed, he wasn't unconscious, just stunned. Apparently, if she really tried, she could do serious damage, but, since it hadn't been fully aimed at him, he'd only caught some of it. Anyone, such as the dead Juandissimo, receiving all of it would have died in the blast of dark magic and mental energy.

When she'd touched him, he'd jerked back as though she'd intended to hurt him. His eyes opened and filled with fear, fear she'd invoked. The old part of her, still present but dormant, laughed cruelly and enjoyed his pain. It relished the fact she'd done something to drive him away. All, this side reasoned, she needed was herself.

But the side she'd regained after Juandissimo's death mourned keenly. It screamed inside her head to show him how she really felt, everything she'd desperately denied. And, unfortunately, it ceased control over her for a split second, opening her mind to him.

All he'd needed was a second, too, because he gasped, his eyes widening. Very carefully, treating her as one would a fragile porcelain figure; he wrapped his arms around her. She froze again, biting her lip so hard, it split.

"I…I can't," She whispered, but looking into his eyes, her own sparkling with tears, she felt her resolve weaken.

Couldn't she submit to him once, just once? What harm would it do to feel his arms around her and lean her head against his chest? To be the one needing someone for once?

Did she always have to be the strong one? Why couldn't she break down for once and tell him what he felt? Sure, so he wasn't the smartest one in the bunch, but he was hers. He'd hold her when she cried, in fact, crying when she did. It was the most genuine display of affection she'd ever seen.

Was it so wrong to submit to him for once? Sure, she was the one to fix his and Timmy's messes (still was fixing the lattermost's worst mess, the 'charming' Lorenzo DeMedici, whom, when she'd left him, stewed in his mirror), but did that mean she didn't have her own? Of course not. Anyone who thought that was a fool.

Just like anyone who thought that Juandissimo hadn't affected her…like herself. She was a fool to deny the past. Yes, she'd never embrace it, but she should at least confess it'd occurred. It'd be better for everyone involved.

Everything returned to this, though- was she ready? Was she ready to let Cosmo take her back to the way things used to be? Was she ready to bear her soul to both Timmy and Cosmo? Was she ready to profess what had pained her for so long but she'd found herself unable to say?

His hands reached out to tentatively stroke a wing, causing her to shudder in pleasure. He'd just wanted her to feel better…and perhaps do more than just comfort her, but he'd leave that up to her. Besides, he hated to see her like this.

Then again, he'd rarely seen her like this before, anyway. Wanda was always the rock and it was rare that the rock started to split as badly as she was. Around her, every relationship depended on her speaking her mind and the past, but she refused to, and so they crumbled.

He just wanted to make her smile, was that so bad? Did it merit another mental attack? Or how about her striking him? No.

But did she seem to see things that way? No. He was being open with her and she was being poignantly secretive. Why? He was her soul mate, she could tell him anything. Sure, he might not understand it all, but he'd do his best. The least she could do was let him in.

That accursed Juandissimo, wrecking havoc with her emotions and her mental state like this! Why, when he got his hands on him! Oh, but wait, he'd already killed him. Oops.

And, for him, it was enough. To know Juandissimo couldn't hurt her again satisfied him. He'd had no plans of making him suffer, just ending his life. (Before that moment, he hadn't realized he was capable of it, either).

However, killing him was a sign of dark magic or darkness at work and just thinking about it recalled her own darkness. How she'd missed it, like a black glove cloaking her from the world. No one wanted to get near her, so she was safe, safe from the light.

It was then the dark magic seized control and she jerked, scowling at him. Anger shook her frame and, in that instant, she'd never despised the two of them more. Herself for submitting to this and him for trying it.

This fool, attempting to show her what, exactly? How easily it was to be manipulated? What insanity could do to a fairy?

Her desire for comfort, for his warmth, they were nothing. Trifles, bits of herself that no longer belonged. She was not the same fairy he'd fallen in love with that much was certain.

As soon as she'd thought those weak ideas, she'd cursed herself mentally. She did not need him, she needed no one. She was Wanda, the rock in this family. People ran to her, not the other way around. Why would she suppose it to reverse because she yearned for it?

Shoving away from him, she concentrated hard. She had to find a way to prevent him from following her around, at least for tonight. Maybe then, he'd get some sleep (since she sincerely doubted he would).

Unconsciously lashing out at him again, she'd found her way to block him. Anger, suppressed rage, cascaded out of her and struck him strongly. It poured out of her, leaving her feeling raw.

However, rawness she could contend with. What she couldn't deal with was Cosmo touching her; kissing her…she couldn't trust him or herself. Too many things had happened.

She took off and poofed to the living room to sleep on the couch. At least there, no one would bother her. Cosmo wasn't likely to follow her, not after the mental attack she'd just dealt out.

Curling up on the couch, she waited for sleep to claim her, but it never did. Instead, she gazed up at the ceiling and wondered what she should have done…if she could have…

>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

(Below the treehouse, in the yard, 4:30 a.m. PST)

The being formerly known as Remy Buxaplenty glowered up at the treehouse where he knew Cosmo and Wanda to be. His patience was wearing thin- he wanted Cosmo's soul _now_. However, according to his master, he could only steal it from him in a moment of sheer rapture during sexual intercourse and, thanks to that contemptuous fairy, it had yet to occur.

In a past life, he'd detested her for holding Juandissimo's heart, but the anger he'd held was cold now. She wasn't the fairy he was after, not by a long shot. Right now, she was just a cumbersome creature who refused to let her hormones and her desires dictate her actions. Were he any sort of human anymore, he might have admired that.

For now, though, she was just in the way of his target. He couldn't do anything about it, either, because killing her would only complicate matters greater. Cosmo would never have sex with anyone else (if he didn't immediately follow her into the grave, that was). Therefore, he had to bide his time, but it grew increasingly annoying.

Clenching his fists in a dead rage, his cold eyes swept the treehouse again. For now, he'd have to remain in the shadows and then strike. That was Lorenzo's mistake, showing himself. Were it him, he'd have done everything to prevent his appearance until it was too late.

Well, no matter. In due time, he'd have Cosmo's soul separate and his life in his hands. Then, like he'd done to Juandissimo, he'd cruelly pull the plug.

Hollow laughter filled the air and the creature formerly known as Remy Buxaplenty smirked. He'd bide his time, for it would be sweeter when it did happen.

>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

(Dimmsdale Park, 6:30 a.m. PST)

For a second, she felt his mind touch hers and then she awoke, startled. Timmy? Where? When had he tried to communicate with her?

Had she been asleep for his communication? Had she missed it? Grand, only a few hours here, in her world, and she'd already missed an important event in Timmy's life. Another thing for him to scream about later, wonderful.

She felt the crick in her neck and winced. Whatever she'd been sleeping on before (or, in this case, whomever), it was rather lumpy (as Gary happened to be). In fact, when she awoke, she realized she must have been pretty damn tired to fall asleep on such an awkward object.

Where on earth was she, though? All she could remember was falling unconscious (not even asleep) and then, this. Just like an alcoholic blackout, only without the alcohol.

She had to be somewhere close, to receive his telepathy with clarity, but he wasn't right alongside her; for if he was, then the reception would be perfect. That left the question- if Timmy wasn't here, who was? Who on earth was she holding onto for dear life?

Glancing sideways, she had her answer. That jerk, that obsessed, pathetic, little boy! How _dare _he grab her in her sleep! Who knows what he'd done while she was unconscious and unable to protest? (Were he that type of person, which he was not).

Of course, his feeling to her, as far as mental projections went, was strikingly similar to Timmy's. It was befitting, of course, since Timmy had created him as well (although she shuddered to think as to how Lorenzo would feel to her). However, there was something slightly off about him that should have given it away. She cursed herself for being so blind as to not see it.

Gary, fortunately enough, remained asleep when she awoke. A broad, goofy smile lit his features and his arms were wrapped loosely about her. Well, sleep no more, jerk! She hadn't the foggiest idea what had happened last night, but if anything, and she meant anything, had occurred of a sexual nature, he'd be minus his family jewels in a few seconds.

Shoving his arms off her small frame, she rose, spitting in indignation. Damn Jorgen, Katrina, and that alternate Trixie for robbing her of the energy she desperately needed. If she'd had it, she wouldn't have fallen prey to this nincompoop.

A cat like grin spread across her face- the cat that ate the canary. Raising her fists above her head, she slammed them as hard as she could down on his crotch. Wakie, wakie, Gary.

Gary awoke with a gut wrenching pain. Blinking blearily, he glanced up to see Tootie, her hands still held in fists above her head. The sun shone behind her, illuminating her and the threat of violence even further.

_Please tell me this is part of my dream,_ He thought with a groan. _That Toot-Toot isn't about to hit me again…'cuz God, it hurts…_

Unfortunately, pinching himself shot _that _theory to hell. Pinching in no way, shape, or form hurt as badly as being punched hard in the balls, it did remind him that he was indeed awake. This meant, he was indeed in danger of further harm thanks to a homicidal maniac.

Meanwhile, above him, Tootie's violet eyes flashed in anger. Sometimes, it just wasn't worth it to get up in the morning.

"How _dare _you try to take advantage of me like that!" She thundered, punctuating each word with a hard punch to an already tender area of his body. Every time he attempted to defend himself, she'd punch him on the hand as well. No matter what he tried, she'd still strike. Hell hath no fury like Tootie scorned.

"You conceited, small brained, uncool jerk!" (The 'uncool' she punctuated by spitting in his face. Jeez, what _had _he done to her? He'd never seen her so angry in his life).

And uncool? How could he say that about her? He was cool! He was the epitome of cool. All the other kids wanted to be as cool as him!

_Almost _more than the punches to his genitals, it hurt. You could punch him until the sky turned purple, but calling him uncool? That was grounds for a civil war.

Swallowing hard and unsteadily rising to his feet despite the agony in between his legs, he gave her a nasty look and clutched the park bench for dear life. Even if it was grounds for civil war, maybe he ought to wait until the pain subsided first (whenever _that _was).

"Hittin' me in the balls, not cool," He grunted, releasing the bench but falling back down again. He hadn't thought it'd hurt this much (then again, he'd never been punched in the balls before, either). Now was not the time to make a stand, now was the time to recoup his losses and wait.

"Like I give a shit!" She roared. Up and down, rhythmically, her chest moved in conjunction with her anger.

"Don't ever try that again or you'll be minus a penis!"

With that threat lingering, she shoved him into the marble bench and stomped off, her pigtails flying behind her. The only thing he could do was look befuddled after, wondering what on earth had gotten into this girl.

>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

(The basement, 7:44 a.m. PST)

Mark awoke in an exceedingly large amount of pain and with Vicky nowhere to be seen. Those two elements within themselves were cause enough for alarm. Add that to the fact one of his machines, stolen from Yugopotamia, beeped madly, and he couldn't help but be frantic.

Rolling over with a grunt, he stretched out and examined the small device carefully. It informed whoever looked at it that magical energy had entered the universe; only, the readouts showed it was Tootie who, aside from telepathy, possessed no magical energy at all. Nonetheless, it suggested there were two beings, currently inactive but hovering close to her, in the vicinity.

Also, another magical being registered on there, ignoring Cosmo and Wanda, and he frowned. The readouts were minimal, but they suggested a creature of black magic residing in the house. It pinpointed the location to be in a mirror at the base of the staircase and he frowned. That was absurd- perhaps the machine was on the blink or something.

In whatever case, he'd best find Vicky before Tootie did. Vicky on a rampage was bad, but Vicky on a rampage, pregnant and furious at her sister was not a sight for the faint at heart. His joint may groan in pain and his mind might throb, but he still had to protect her sibling from his terrible bride. Honestly, she was worse than Man-die (which was saying a bit right there).

_This is what you get for having unprotected sex as often as your highness desires_, He thought contemptuously and reluctantly rose. Poor Tootie…and poor anyone else that got in her way.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>

(Timmy Turner's kitchen, 8:00 a.m. PST)

Sophie stretched and yawned, eyeing her fairy godmother as she prepared breakfast the human way. Sometimes, she wondered why she did it if she had magic. However, since she'd so graciously given her a home, she wasn't questioning her motives. Besides, the homemade breakfast reminded her of her own mother, who had forgotten her very existence.

Most of the time, the rest of the household ignored her as well, leaving her to run to her books for companionship. She didn't blame them, considering she was the odd girl out. Fairy World would have nothing to do with anyone in this house (either currently residing or on the warpath), so, until she was eighteen, she was stuck here. The library helped her make the most of it.

Timmy, his hair sticking up in odd places and his pink pajamas wrinkled, ambled into the kitchen. He didn't even greet her as he slid into his usual place by the stove and watched Wanda work. She sighed- although she hadn't anticipated a 'hello' or 'good morning', it would have been nice.

Wanda, her back to them, continued to work and flipped over the omelet, full of cheese for Cosmo. Were they to see her, they'd have seen the bags under her eyes, which she hadn't bothered to conceal. Simply put, she didn't care anymore.

Distantly, she murmured, "Timmy, say hello to Sophie."

Sophie, in the middle of a page, flicked her gaze upwards for a millisecond before returning it to the book. He didn't have to and she knew he wasn't likely to. Why push what wasn't going to happen?

"She's too busy reading to even know I'm here," He countered, swallowing orange juice after he finished complaining. Sophie finished the page, turned it, and sighed. This was his argument for everything. Maybe if she'd felt a little more included, she'd stop reading so much.

Scowling, Wanda turned around and retrieved the plates from the cupboard. Her eyes fell on Sophie, who merely shook her head. Another nine years of this, what a joy.

"She knows you're here," Wanda snapped, edgy. Okay, so maybe Timmy speaking to her goddaughter wasn't exactly high on her priority list, but it was just one of a number of things that irked her. And have you known sleep deprived people to be tremendously patient and kind? I rest my case.

Wishing the conflict to be over, Sophie murmured sheepishly, "He doesn't have to say hello if he doesn't want to. I know I'm a burden."

Doling out portions, Wanda completed one plate that Sophie immediately took. Gathering the plate, her orange juice, and her book (tucked firmly beneath her arm), she left the room. If mornings would go smoother if she ate in her room, so be it. She hadn't intended to cause trouble for anyone.

"Where are you going?" Timmy called, the first four words he'd said to her in a few days. She turned slightly in his direction, the orange juice swishing about in the glass cup. Her eyes swept him before she replied.

"To eat in my room. I'll do the dishes for it afterwards and I'll keep it neat, don't worry." Her tone was curt, masking the hurt. In her old house, when her parents had loved her, she received love and affection by the barrel full. They never neglected her for a minute. Now, in this place, she found herself completely alone, without a single person to speak to or even to acknowledge her presence. She'd become completely invisible.

Head hung low, despondent, she proceeded up the stairs to the very last room, Timmy's parents' old room. In there, she found her solace, surrounded by the books she'd checked out of the library and the world she'd constructed. Bookcases upon bookcases were filled to the brim with books Wanda found for her (from Lorenzo's mansion, but she needn't know that), guaranteed to keep her occupied for a good long while. As long as she was out of their hair, they couldn't care less what she was doing.

There'd been quite an argument over Timmy's parents' room, however. When she'd come to the house, she'd seen it as the only open room, not knowing anything. The venom he'd used, violently repelling her from it, shocked her. Tears sprang to her eyes, but she dared not to try in front of him and merely swallowed hard.

Wanda, realizing she had to appease both her true godson and her new goddaughter, sent Timmy's parents' things elsewhere and converted it to Sophie's room. Timmy, of course, had been adamant- in his opinion, Sophie could sleep on the couch. Wanda spat back that she'd be here for another nine years since the amnesia could not be reversed and wanting to do right by her, firmly put her foot down. Since then, Sophie was the only one who entered the room. Timmy avoided it like the black plague.

She hated it here, hated how everyone treated her like she was worthless than the ink in the books she read. But what was she supposed to do? No one spoke to her, she had no magic of her own, and no place to go.

Sighing heavily, she opened the door just enough for her to slide inside and then shut it before her. Nine more years…

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>

(The stoop, 8:30 a.m. PST)

Vicky could feel it; she just knew Tootie was back. Sitting on the stoop, she waited for the pain to begin. When that girl got back here, oh, was she in for it. She could practically taste the blood on her fists.

Soon…

>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>

(Kitchen, 8:37 a.m. PST)

Breakfast without Sophie was quiet, anyway. Anything either male asked her, she'd answer briefly, forcing herself to eat supernaturally quickly. If she was eating, she wasn't answering.

Bolting down the omelet at a rate that would surely leave a human choking, she began to clean the house, also the human way. Timmy and Cosmo turned to stare at her, but, placing headphones atop her ears, she ignored them. For a second, they eyed her before turning to clear the dishes from the table.

Giving up for the moment, Timmy trudged upstairs to play his video games and Cosmo glanced at her before vanishing himself. He would have to figure out some way to get her to talk (which was a new one, considering how little he did think). For now, there was no reaching her.

>>I'll be here if you wanna talk,>> He sent softly, caressing her mind. She did not reply.

Below the roar of the vacuum cleaner, the pounding music in her ears, and under the audible rang of anyone around those two, she whispered, "Never."


	4. Don't Tell Me Everything is Wonderful No...

Disclaimer: You know, these things are really starting to bug me...I don't own it! Jesus f-ing Christ...

Chapter Four: Don't Tell Me Everything is Wonderful Now

The rain started early, Timmy noted with a scowl. In fact, it poured down in sheets over the humid city of Dimmsdale, rendering any hope of visibility a near miracle. He could scarcely see out his window, obscured by the heavy rainfall. It wasn't as though there was anything to see, however, but the bleakness in the room matched that within himself.

Although he'd hardly been a fan of the rain before, now he welcomed it. Where was there to go, anyway? Who was waiting out there for him, the lowly, lonely orphaned Timmy Turner?

Yes, orphaned, just like Tootie and Sophie, only, his situation seemed the most hopeless. He'd actually been within a hairline of receiving his parents again only to lose them. Goddamn Lorenzo! Goddamn him to Hell for putting him through this!

No, that wasn't fair. Sophie too had lost her parents…but he hardly knew the girl and he couldn't empathize properly. Depression had run him ragged, stolen his feeling from him. All he knew and cared about was dead inside.

That wasn't true, either. Tootie was still alive somewhere, wherever. He still loved her, still cared about her with all his heart, soul, and mind. Yet every moment apart ran into another and then yet another.

Long ago, his friends had given up all hope of reaching him. They tried, desperately, to force him to return a phone call, an instant message, anything, but he merely shrugged and shut off the phone and computer. What good were friends? They didn't tell you anything you truly wanted to hear.

Besides, what on earth could he tell them of his troubles? How much of that would they believe? Why would they be interested in hearing the trials and tribulations of a whiny brat?

He was no one to them, nothing more than a phantom in Dimmsdale Junior High. There was more amiss about Lorenzo's disappearance than Timmy's suicide attempt and depression, according to his friends. Then again, they hadn't really known about the last two, so he couldn't really blame them.

Still, they had an annoying habit of remaining around to ask him how everything was. They were never satisfied when he nodded and then shut the door in their face. Didn't they know they were better off not knowing? What good could they possibly do him?

Did any of them know what it was like to be brutally abused by someone they trusted? Or have that same person be of their creation, their own damn stupid creation? Did they know what it was like to live day in and day out with the guilt of causing everyone such pain?

He was alone, in both this and the fact that his maladies were magic related. Sure, he could tell them much about Lorenzo without mentioning how he came to be and who exactly Cosmo and Wanda were, but that required more energy than he had these days. All he wanted to do was sleep, not work on telling his friends how much pain he was in.

Why should they know, anyway? What were they going to say? Were they going to be there for him? How on earth was he supposed to know?

Of course, he supposed the logical answer would be to ask them, but why? Why should he open himself up? Being closed suited him just fine. After all, it'd gotten him through the agonizing months without Tootie and everyone else perfectly.

No one needed to know just how badly he felt right now, how the scars all on his body were no longer just from Lorenzo. How he wanted to cut right now, just to feel the adrenaline rush and the sense that, yes, he had control over something in his life. No, he couldn't bring Tootie back, or the ones that Lorenzo had killed, he couldn't end the pain from his rape, but he could hurt himself. And that within itself was wonderful.

Where were the razors, though? He only vaguely recalled a few in the bathroom, but, when he remembered them, it was with a haze, as though someone had magically wiped his mind. Could Wanda have found them? School wasn't in session, he couldn't steal anymore.

Still, there were kitchen knives and butcher knives. He'd have to be extremely careful there, since he didn't want to kill himself…and risk being caught. Then again, if the knife happened to just slip, who was to fault him?

Timmy dreamed of the day when he would finally lose the finesse over the blade and it slid deep into his veins. The pain would be downright magical, the blood pouring like champagne. As he lay dying, then they'd care. But then, it'd be too late. And he'd be back with his parents _finally_.

No more lies, no more betrayers, no more leaving him. The people who adored him would remain there forever. Sure, he wouldn't have Cosmo and Wanda or Tootie, but he would be happy. Happy…

For now, the pain would have to suffice. The beautiful, gorgeous pain that enveloped him with its tantalizing venom and made him _feel_. Yes, he was alive because his skin hummed with blood.

Not like the way he felt around Tootie, not at all. She meant him feel like it was worth it, not to hurt himself, not to wish he were dead every single day. But it'd been so long…too long. He couldn't remember what it was like to hold her in his arms, only in his dreams…

She'd been so soft, he remembered that. She'd leaned into him and he'd felt a surge of bliss. Bliss, jubilation, words only associated with cutting now. At least he could see the razor every day.

Tootie hadn't known he was cutting when she left nor during the brief time she returned. She hadn't known he'd attempted suicide only to be thwarted by Cosmo. She hadn't known he still attempted suicide, only, at the last moment, he recoiled, considering how Wanda would react.

It wouldn't be that she'd be cross with him, no. It was just that Cosmo had never told her he cut himself until he saw the bones on his wrist (once). (He'd blamed that particular one on an accident in the kitchen. No one had been the wiser). She'd realize he wasn't the perfect godchild she left and that he really did need her…but she needed him more.

The person he truly needed was Tootie, wherever the hell she was. With her, he wouldn't have to worry about anything. In an instant, she'd wrap her arms around him and kiss him until the pain ebbed away.

Heh, bet she was having the time of her life wherever she was. It fit, didn't it? Everyone should go and abandon him, because he was indirectly responsible for ruining their lives.

Timmy Turner, the world's worst godchild. The one even Jorgen forsook, after pretending that he'd liked them the best. Lorenzo had caused far too much damage for him to give a damn.

How often had he screamed he was sorry to Cosmo and Wanda? How often had he cried himself to sleep? And yet, no apology could reverse the past. Nothing could save them.

What he'd do for absolution, to feel as though the rain could wash away his sins, wash away the blood on his scars. Perhaps, in the rain, no one would notice the tears striking his face. The rain, blood, and tears would all mix in and he'd be whole again.

Sighing heavily, he watched the rain fall, striking his window with pangs that reminded him of his heart. It was often said that, when it rained, God cried, but Timmy, who had never given much thought to God, didn't truly care. How could there be a god if all these terrible things happened?

So what if he was responsible for them partly? So what if he'd make that stupid wish again, if he could? So what if he wasn't sorry for everything he'd done?

The realization took his breath away. He wasn't as sorry as he thought he was…In a way, he'd wanted it, hadn't he? Hadn't he wanted to hurt people? That was where Lorenzo came from, wasn't it? There was a part of him that wanted to hurt, kill…rape…

This was why he'd agreed with him to revive his parents, wasn't it? It wasn't just that he wanted his parents back, he wanted to kill…He was a monster…

No, he was worse than a monster, for he'd created a monster. He spawned something born out of his innate fears, hatreds, and hostilities. Lorenzo was something he'd never recognized as being part of him, other than the title of his anti fairy.

Never…until just now. Didn't it make sense? He wasn't satisfied with his death for two fold reasons- he wanted him to hurt as much as he did and, for the pain to be so intense, it'd make him forget why he wanted to hurt him. It wasn't just that he'd raped him, but that he'd taught him something about himself he didn't want to know.

Hatred for Vicky was more than just hatred…it went deeper than he could ever guess. If he used Lorenzo's actions to represent the way he'd felt when he was ten (since most of his feelings were born when Lorenzo was), then the way he felt about Vicky, Tootie, everyone else, it was all there. No, that couldn't be it. Why would he hate his godparents?

Sure, he'd resented them that night, but enough to hate them? Not only that, but enough to wish them ill? To wish them dead?

Cosmo and Wanda were his only true parents, all things considered. They tucked him in at night while his parents gallivanted around, they held him while he cried, and they were there for him. In many ways, he considered them to be his only protection against the world…

No more, of course. The world was cruel, cold, and, when you were least expecting, it slammed you in the back. That was why it was him against the world, alone. Who else would understand the gashes on his chest, the scars on his thighs? Not Cosmo and Wanda.

Had he hated everyone, then? Had he hated the godparents who had been the only ones to show him true affection? Had he wished to end their trivial lives?

_Cosmo…Wanda…I'm so sorry…_

Shutting his eyes and trembling badly, he sought to remember his emotions that fateful day. Everything came back to it, didn't it? How the hell could one stupid day ruin so much?

All he could recall was resentment, deep seated resentment. Why should something that came so easily to them be so difficult for him? Why should they get all the breaks that he didn't get? Why was it, when they switched places, that they had a better day than him? It wasn't fair!

Then, a flash and he fell, unconscious for five seconds. Lorenzo's birth…he'd been born in a moment when he'd detested Cosmo and Wanda. Although the emotions were only temporary, they'd been present and constructed the mold for his anti fairy. To think what would have happened if he were only in a slightly different state of mind…

Did that explain The Other's hatred for Tootie? Well, when he was ten, he found her creepy. That didn't mean he wanted to kill her or anything like that, but she _was _annoying. (Just when she'd crossed the line from annoying into someone he dreamed about was unclear to him). Could that have been the base for Lorenzo's feelings?

Then there was Vicky…although the less said about that area, the better. Where had his hatred crossed the line? Would he really have done that, if he could?

The obvious answer, at least, the answer clamoring to be spoken was "no!". But was that true anymore? Would he have done it if he could? Was Lorenzo an indication of what he might become?

He didn't want to, of course. Then again, with a sinking heart, he realized he didn't want to treat Tootie like he did, but, whenever he saw her, the wrong words came out. It was like she started a chain reaction in him.

_If I'm doomed to repeat Lorenzo, then I'm doomed to shove Tootie away…_He thought bleakly. _I'm doomed to hate her because I'm just like him…_

Closing his eyes, he retraced a scar on his chest. He was just like him…He would find a person that admired him and steal his happiness away from him. Then, would he be happy? Was there such a thing as happiness? Or was happiness just a moment devoid of sorrow?

_Do I love Tootie? Or is it just that I don't hate her? _

However, he didn't know the answer to this.

>>>

Tootie spat out a bit of filthy water, although, with all the rain coming down, it was almost impossible to discern the cars from anything else. Gary walked beside her, offering his jacket (inconceivable, to ruin his own 'coolness' for her, yet here he was). She didn't take it, simply because she wanted none of his pity.

Water drenched their mouths whenever they opened them, so conversation was thankfully short. However, that didn't mean Gary was going to give up so soon. He knew something was bothering her and he was going to get the story out if it killed him.

Even though they both resembled drowned rats, he remained attracted to her. In the rain, it was impossible to tell if the liquid sliding down her cheeks came from the sky or from her inner trauma. However, judging by the amount of times she sniffled, he guessed the latter.

Damn Timmy for ruining her life like that. Why the hell had he chased her away before? Why couldn't he see he had a good thing?

Very carefully, realizing he was playing with fire, he grabbed her hand. She gazed back at him in astonishment, but he merely shrugged. Besides, he enjoyed this too much to give up now.

She opened her mouth to shout some sort of threat, but the water drowned her out. Instead, she shook her head. When they were some place that wasn't here, she'd tell him off.

Still, she had to admit that it did feel nice to have someone, anyone, hold her hand. That didn't mean she wasn't going to kick him in the balls and slam it down later against the wall, but the affection was appreciated. Especially now, when she didn't feel wonderful and she had to rely on him to find their way 'home'.

His breath was on her neck and she at first melted. Before the recent memory of Katrina and the alternate Trixie struck, she relished his closeness. As much as she hated it, she yearned for affection.

Even if Gary would pay for it later, she'd let him hold her hand now. For now, she had too many thoughts surfacing, too much strife, to properly concentrate on any particular feeling.

Speaking of feelings, why was she getting such odd feelings from their link? Why did she feel, well, suicidal? No, wait, this wasn't her…it was Timmy.

Alarm struck her and she grabbed Gary's hand, yanking him across the road and nearly into ongoing traffic. Agonizing pain, pain she knew had to be unconsciously transmitted from him, pain she could not bear, she had to find its source. Suddenly, there wasn't enough time in the day, their legs couldn't travel far enough fast enough.

She thought, in the back of her mind, she heard Gary yell at her to slow down, but she no longer heard him. Nothing could she hear except the pounding in her head and then their feet smacking the pavement. Nothing mattered save their arrival.

"Toot!" He protested, about to be swung into ongoing traffic. There was no response.

"Look, if this is about my holdin' you while you were asleep, I'm sorry!" He called out, but, again, there was no answer. The hand holding his grew tight, as if threatening to hurt him should he speak anymore. Although she wasn't speaking, that particular action came out crystal clear.

_Just wait…oh, Timmy…_Tootie thought, tears cascading down her face. Why did she have to deal with this first thing when she got home?

>>>

Coolness pervaded the room, but the occupant, a skeletal boy with an absurd fixture upon his head, ignored it. Odd though it was that a summer thunderstorm would bring a chill upon the room, this was not important. The time was close at hand and he'd best grasp it before it evaded him.

Within the medicine cabinets, stowed there for safekeeping, was an accumulation he could be proud of. All of them were stolen from school, only a few were missed. They all had varying degrees of jaggedness, all sliced differently. In their own way, any of them, with the exception of the extremely dull ones, could efficiently do their job.

However, there was but one choice in his mind as to the right one and this he sought, relishing the sight of these instruments. Some glittered in the fluorescent lights, some had the slightest remnant of blood, and some were perfectly hewed, the razors of the gods themselves. It was these, among the elite, he desired his perfection and here he found it. Here, the teacher's razor, with its incredible acuity and pinpoint accuracy, the one razor he was certain could efficiently do the task at hand.

When he'd stolen the item from school, he'd made haste to quickly hide it, lest another discover its whereabouts or its potential. Before now, he'd not dared to use it, for the blade was _too _sharp, _too _powerful. One slip and he could commit this act before it was time.

Lovingly, he traced the other scars along his body, the delicate reminders there was something more to life than a dull ache. These were his wounds, these he could control, and, with a sweet slide of the knife, what he could use to measure himself. All of the gashes were his punishments, for he was the epidemic. Only he could stop himself.

One particular scar ran close to his heart, a failed attempt. He'd gotten so close, and then stopped himself. Or was it another interfered? He could not recall.

However, details were insignificant now, in this final hour. Everything else was in place, with the exception of the one item proven to be his downfall previously. No, he would not be foolhardy enough to give any an indication of his actions, this was for certain. Lorenzo may have seen him write it before, but, with no one watching him, no one to gage actions, he could taste death's kiss freely.

Cosmo, downstairs, sat watching some atrocious movie about forsaken lovers. A bitter smile arose- no one in the house should really view that, considering their state of affairs. After all, either they were missing their beloved or otherwise estranged. Nonetheless, he sat, eyes fixed upon the maudlin feature.

Wanda busied herself about the house and utilized the human way to clean and prepare meals. Her argument was if anyone came over the house, unfamiliar with their magical nature, she had to make it look believable. The fact remained no one came over the house that didn't know this, but she was covering up desperately. Anything to occupy a vast majority of her time would do quite nicely.

Sophie, as usual, poured over the books in her possession. Timmy hardly gave her a second thought, seeing as no one else did, for one, and, two, he barely knew her. Besides, the amount she would be saddened by his death was minimal.

Vicky sat outside, regardless of the pouring rain. Whatever her agenda was, he didn't deign to ask. In a few minutes, it would no longer matter to him, anyway.

Mark, also on the step, pleaded with her to return inside, for the safety of herself and her unborn child. So far, he'd had absolutely no luck and there he stood, with a fat lip and a black eye. Apparently, Vicky was not averse to smacking her husband around in addition to everyone else.

A bitter smile rose on his face and he recognized it as jealousy. Of all the star-crossed lovers in this house, at least these two were together, in a matter of speaking. There was no accounting for Vicky's temper, of course, but she still had who she wanted.

Cosmo and Wanda had each other; only, it was more that they saw each other than they actually had something. A glance was about all they shared and, were they anything else, Timmy wasn't privy to it. Nonetheless, he sincerely doubted it, observing Wanda's reactions to anything Cosmo tried.

Perhaps things would change with his death. At least then, she would not be reluctant to have him hold her and comfort her. Besides, he'd caused her problem, hadn't he? He'd been responsible for all the pain in this house, which was why it was best he eliminate the source of the problem.

She might cry at his death, perchance be shocked at how it occurred, but, in the end, things would turn out better. Tootie wouldn't have to return to be burdened by him, Wanda wouldn't have to worry about him, and everything else would just fall into place. Sometimes, he reasoned, a sacrifice was needed.

Gingerly, he removed the blade from its pristine glass case. Yes, he'd stolen this from school as well, but, the main point was it protected the blade from damage or unworthy eyes. There, it looked just as perfect as it had the day he'd stolen it.

Before he placed it upon his wrist, he set it down on the counter and glanced it over. There were many places to produce a wound, but, where was the best? Which would kill him the quickest? When he'd tried the first time, he'd been far too emotional. But, after planning for months, he could afford to be cool and methodical about this.

Running water kept the wound flowing, did it not? In that instance, perhaps he'd best lie down in the water and let its soothing nature take him quicker. When the pool was sufficient, he could drown himself and leave this world far behind.

Discarding of his clothing, he knelt by the faucet and turned it, mixing hot with cold to induce warm. This would also do nicely. He would lie in the water first, wait for his muscles to relax, and then start.

Timmy cast a contemptuous look at his pink hat before lowering himself into the bath. For years, he'd worn this spectacle, and, only recently had it become an object of derision. Well, no more. Let another don the 'gay' cap for once, he was through with it.

However, a thought nagged at him. His parents had given him that pink hat; it was all that was truly left of them. Perhaps he ought to take it with him, as a vestige of the only period of happiness he had ever known.

Shaking his head, he left it where it lay and, gazing at the tub, observed it was wholly filled. Excellent, then, in about thirty minutes, he would no longer know this place. Whatever lay ahead had to be better than this.

Lowering himself into the bath, he at once seized upon the razor, handle first, and gazed openly at it. Its beauty was unmatched by any other he'd stolen, its sharpness enough to pierce even the toughest material. When he used it, it would slice through him like a dragon fang pierced through human armor.

A serene smile lit up his features, finally, at peace. Before he began, he shut his eyes and imagined Tootie, one last time. Perhaps she wasn't returning, so his death wouldn't impact her. He had no idea how this telepathy thing worked, but, according to the What-If Spell, she would feel him slip from her mind. Well, be that as it may, it hardly impacted his choice.

Still, he would like to think he had one last conversation or attempted it before he died. True, he couldn't hold her, kiss her, or do anything else he wanted with her, but to hear her voice one last time would be divine. It was the last seal…

>>Tootie?>> He sent, caressing the blade with his right thumb and slowly sliding it across his left wrist. A thin incision was all that showed, but he could tell from the pain surging up his body the depth of the gash. Perhaps he'd cut close to the bone, he had no way of telling.

Although he could not withhold the sting from her, he wished her to know it didn't truly hurt him as much as she might believe. He was at peace with himself, at peace with the pain required to commit the final act. When he could feel himself fall further from life, he'd tell her more.

A gasp, and then, with a burst of alarm, he felt her in his mind. These were her emotions now, her raw reaction. If only he could tell her not to worry, oh, wait, he could. Still, it was best to let her speak freely.

Tenderly, as one would treat a fragile piece of pottery, his arm pierced the water's surface and the blood began to mix with the water. Soon, after he sliced his chest open, his head would lie beneath the surface as well, either by his own choosing or by the lack of neck support from his death. Perhaps floating in a pool of blood and water was overkill, but it would get the job done.

>>Timmy!>> She called, her panic reaching him and, for a second, stunning him. She sounded fairly close by, maybe within a few blocks of the house. Pain was in her telepathy as well, only, this was because, innately, she picked up his plan of action.

>>You're back and just in time,>> He sent, realizing his coolness reminded him of Lorenzo. Well, in a way, it helped to be objective about this. This was how he had been trained to kill Cosmo and Wanda.

>>In time for _what_?>> She replied, her concern sliding into his mind and overlapping his own emotions. For a second, he knew what it was to feel again.

>>You'll see when you get home. I loved you, Tootie.>> With that, he shut down the link and, even though he could feel her tug at it desperately, he refused to open it up again. Echoes of her cries reached him, but he ignored them. He'd done what he'd wanted to.

Then, like someone ripping a hole into his mind, he felt her tear into the telepathy bond. Pain seared through him and he smiled. Everything was clearer when you were in pain.

That reminded him, he had yet to slice into his chest. Since the razor was still in his right hand, he moved it over his chest and, slowly, began his descent to the razor's final destination, right above his heart. Blood thundered in his ears and pooled around his body. This was it…

>>Timmy Turner!>> Tootie screamed and he froze, unable to move for the sheer amount of emotion she flung at him. So the What-If Spell was right…she could feel him dying…

>>Timmy…please…oh, God…>> Tears entered the link and he realized, suddenly, that she was sobbing brokenly on the other side. Unable to move, since her emotions pinned him to the spot, he was forced to listen.

Or perhaps he didn't have to be…Again, he tugged at the link and, again, he shut it down. This time, however, he placed a mental barrier in front. Unfortunately, now, his concentration was broken and tears streamed down his face. Her emotions were now his.

>>Goodbye, Tootie.>> With that, his right hand reached a few inches before his heart, but, this time, froze again. Only, it had a more magical reason behind it than an emotional overload.

Floating over him, her eyes shut but tears streaming down her face as well, was Wanda. Her spell paralyzed him, the knife fixated right above his heart. At the moment, she couldn't speak save for the sobs that wracked her body.

Fortunately, however, he could. His eyes narrowed at her- he had power over everything above his neck, and cold anger seized him. Twice, now, he'd been thwarted. Gods, and he hadn't even been stupid enough to leave a note!

Not trusting herself to speak, she waved her wand again and the razor disappeared from his hand. Wherever it went, neither was entirely certain of, but it could no longer harm him. In all likelihood, it had returned to its owner, who, hopefully, would not notice the bloodstains.

Another wave of her wand and the blood/water vanished from the tub. Orange marks stained it, but her eyes were not on those. They were fixed on him, taking in the scars, gashes, and bruises he'd endeavored to place upon himself.

A gasp escaped her, within her crying fit, and she finally fell out of midair, landing on a nearby hamper. He regarded her furiously, but didn't say a word. For the moment, he was so angry, he couldn't.

Leaning against the wall, she braced herself. Her wand was held tightly in one hand, her other hand over her heart. Hmm, he hadn't thought about it, but she had to be fairly old. Then again, he had given her the shock of her life, so any sort of affect like that had to be expected.

"In all my years…" She whispered, not speaking to anyone in particular. All the color had drained from her face and her wings, as well as the rest of her frame, trembled. Now more than ever, she wished she hadn't shoved Cosmo away.

He merely gazed at her, someone who had the gall to stop him. Didn't she know she was better off without him? Everyone was better off without him.

Perhaps she could read this in his expression, for she turned to him. Although she was still crying, she found she was calm enough to say something. Or, rather, do something.

Floating over him, her flight unsteady at best, she slapped him as hard as she could. Her hand left marks, but, before he could concentrate on that, she started screaming at him.

"What the hell did you think you were doing?" She shrieked, profanity uncharacteristically sliding into her speech. Her hair turned to flames, and, briefly, her attire turned completely black. He'd awakened the dark fairy in her.

"Why would you do something so stupid! What the hell is wrong with you!" Waving her wand again, she healed his cuts. Apparently, the thought hadn't occurred to her until just now to do so.

"Didn't Cosmo tell you? I'm suicidal," Timmy replied, an insane smile crossing his face. There were more blades in the cabinet. There were always more blades.

For a second, she gazed at him in shock. It seemed Cosmo hadn't told her anything about him. All she knew was what she'd known before the whole mess occurred, nothing more.

"You-you…" She stammered, then, in a bellow he caught the slightest hint of, she screamed for him in telepathy. That must have been how she'd known to come here. Tootie had screamed his name so loud, half of the astral field had to have heard it.

>>COSMO!>> She screamed, ringing in both his head and hers. No matter how much of a fool he was, he'd be either a complete lackwit or insane to ignore that. And, although Cosmo was quite strongly close to the first, he didn't dare ignore her.

With a green poof, he entered the room and quailed under Wanda's glower. He cowered behind a towel, but, out of the corner of his eye, he could see Timmy, covered in scars from his chest to below, where he couldn't see. Every inch of his body had been slashed at some time or another.

"You _knew _about this?" She said dangerously. "You _knew _Timmy had razors in here and was planning to kill himself?"

Drawing back her hand, she prepared to strike when Timmy interrupted her. Again, his coolness shocked her. She wished his tears would reflect his emotions, but at least she knew their culprit. He must have contacted Tootie.

"He only knew that I tried it once and he caught me. Cosmo has no idea that I have razors in here and that I've been cutting for months after I came home. He has no idea that I was trying to commit suicide."

He said it so plainly, so monotonous, another chill coursed down her spine. He didn't see anything wrong with this. To him, it was as routine as breathing.

Cosmo, meanwhile, had latched onto her, his fear of her forgotten in light of Timmy's confession. Yes, he was indeed holding onto her quite tightly, but, right now, she welcomed his embrace. Although he was crushing a wing back, she didn't care. He cared and he could feel her pain. That was all that mattered right now.

"Where are the other razors?" She said, voice trembling. He did not answer her. Instead, his eyes slid over them and onto the ceiling. Why should he tell them?

"_Where are the other razors_?" Wanda screamed and Cosmo, continuing to cling to her, began to cry. She had no idea whether he was crying over her anger or Timmy's suicide attempt, but, at the moment, she really didn't have time for this.

"Why should I tell you?" Timmy replied, his tone sounding almost bored.

Silence reigned for an instant before she waved her wand again, nearly smacking Cosmo in the face, and razors of every time flew out of the cabinets and into a basin she conjured up. With this amount, he could equip a small army. Somehow, though, she didn't think it was all there.

Waving her wand again, the door opened and a few more razors landed neatly on the pile. This had to be it, since the spell couldn't locate any others. However, there had to be at least fifty here.

"Fifty seven to be exact," Timmy murmured and Wanda turned her attention from the razors (Cosmo gulped fearfully) to him. If it was possible, more blood drained from her face and she resembled the walking dead.

"Where-where'd you get all of 'em?" Cosmo gulped, eyeing them warily, all the while clutching his wife like a life preserver. His head rested on her shoulders, but his arms snaked around her waist.

"We were cutting linoleum in art class when I accidentally cut myself…I liked it, so I stole the razor. After I grabbed that one, I just started taking them…" He trailed off, eyeing the razors with a look akin a thirsty man to a bottle of cold, refreshing water. It gave both of them the creeps.

_Well, that solves the question of where he got them…and how he found them in the first place, _Wanda thought, shuddering.

"That doesn't make it right!" She retorted, trying to put her hands on her hips but finding it difficult because of the grip Cosmo held on her. C'mon, boy, let go.

"Why the hell did you stop me!" Timmy screamed back at her and, stunned for a moment, she sought Cosmo's hand and squeezed it. Surprised, he took her in before squeezing it back and gently blowing on her wings. Her wings tingled pleasantly.

"You _want _to commit suicide?" Cosmo gasped and she mentally slapped a hand to her forehead. Of course he wanted to commit suicide. Wasn't that painfully obvious to everyone in the room? Then again, probably not to him.

"I'm just a burden to both of you! I caused Juandissimo to take Wanda-" He began, but, upon hearing his name, Wanda uttered a soft gasp and clung to the arms wrapped tightly about her.

"If it wasn't for me and that stupid wish, he never would have hurt her-" Timmy began, but a sharp cry broke him off.

"That isn't true!" She protested weakly, feeling as though someone heavy sat upon her chest. Breaths now came in short gasps and her hands shook so badly, she dropped her wand.

"Oh, isn't it? I'm responsible for everything here, aren't I? If it wasn't for me, everyone would be happy!" He snapped back.

"Number one, you had no idea that your wish would have such mass repercussions and two, killing yourself will _not _change the past. You cannot change the past, you can only live in the present. I'm sorry if no one ever told you this, but living in the what-ifs, the could haves, the would haves, won't help you.

"I know you hurt because of what Lorenzo did to you, I know you think you're responsible for everything that's happened, but that isn't true. You're no more responsible for Lorenzo's actions than Cosmo is for Anti Cosmo or I am for Anti Wanda. Just because Lorenzo did far worse things than Anti Cosmo did doesn't mean you're to blame for them.

"There are people here who care about you and can't stand to see a hair on your head harmed, much less this…" Here she swallowed hard before continuing. Cosmo pressed against her felt so nice…

"And you have to open up to them. I know it's painful, but if you don't say anything, it'll just get worse."

Unable to find a reply, Timmy stared up at the ceiling. She just wished she knew if her words fell on deaf ears.

_Timmy…we really do love you…_

She realized abruptly Cosmo had had his arms wrapped around her waist for over twenty minutes and she hadn't shoved him away or otherwise rejected him. In fact, she found she couldn't think of Juandissimo at all when Cosmo was clinging to her.

And if he could hold her around the waist, that meant he could possibly do more…

However, now was not the time for those thoughts. Something had to be done about Timmy, to keep from getting to his supply and hurting himself again. She'd failed him as a godmother by not noticing how serious his problems were in light of her own.

And now, she'd thought of how nice it was to have Cosmo wrapped around her, instead of how badly Timmy needed her. Tears sprang to her eyes and she swallowed hard, trying to shove all her doubts aside for the moment. In private, perhaps, she could think about this more, but, not now.

"I'm not taking that spell of you, not until I'm sure I have someone to watch you after I remove it. I'll dress you, of course, but, otherwise, perhaps you'd better ask Sophie to read to you."

Very gently, she waved Cosmo's wand, as hers was out of reach and she didn't want to ask him to release her in order to retrieve it, and he was poofed into clothing and into his room. No more questions, she would talk to him later. For now, she had to talk to Cosmo.

Waving his wand again, she poofed them into the treehouse.

>>>

"Why are we here?" He asked, his arms still firmly about her waist. Instead of answering him directly, she removed his arms. Er, rather, she tried, but his grip on her was damn near impossible to break.

"I'm not lettin' go!" He protested, kissing her neck. Instead of screaming at him, either mentally or aloud, she turned around (a mean feat considering his hold was like an iron grip) and kissed him passionately on the lips.

Needless to say, he was a little shocked. However, the shock wore off quickly enough and he kissed her back, sliding his hands through her soft pink hair. He pushed her back onto the bed and continued.

>>Cosmo, I love you…>> She sent, sliding her hands up and down his wings. Well, she'd originally planned on talking…but it seemed her body had other ideas…

Then, with a telepathic whisper, she sent, >>Take me…>>

Beneath the treehouse, the being formerly known as Remy Buxaplenty began to laugh; high, cold laughter that echoed.

>>>

Author's Note: The chapter got away from me…and I'm sorry if what happened with Cos and Wan seemed abrupt. They really had meant to talk, but she's in a distressed emotion state herself and she couldn't help herself. Besides, you know what they say. Talk is cheap.

Replies to the two reviews that I got! Two bloody reviews…it's the worst I've had in months.

**Yeah Loi**- All of the TOS chapters are long…get used to it. And yeah, Timmy's just fucked up…

**Ahhelga**- Well, you'll find out more about Sophie in the next chapter because I wanted to end it here…Timmy got the most attention again…

Yeah, and with everyone else, they'll be in later…

Here, have a Lorenzo killing Cal plushie, complete with bloodstains…


	5. In Heat

Disclaimer: I don't own it. I don't own anything except my baby, Lorenzo. Oh, and Sophie, who isn't in this chapter…

Chapter Five: In Heat

Tootie was soaked from head to toe. Moreover, she could see, as the rain began to taper off, a figure sitting, also soaked, on the doorstep. Her heart sank into the depths of her stomach. Great, just what she needed, another version of Vicky, this one her own, to pester her.

Swallowing hard, she gently shoved Gary away before slowly approaching the step. He gave her a look that said quite plainly he wouldn't be treated in this manner, but she shoved him again, this time into a puddle, and he glowered at her before leaving. How dare she treat him like this!

If looks could kill, this one would send her spiraling into an early grave, but she ignored it. Besides which, she didn't want him to see the possible beating she might have at the hands of her 'beloved' sister. She knew she wouldn't be able to escape unscathed, but she wished to slink away afterwards.

Vicky was indeed pounding a fist into her hand, her pregnancy evident as her stomach was quite swollen. Then again, this was nothing compared to how haggard her face was nor how exhausted she appeared. Were she not capable of great acts of violence, Tootie would pity her.

Mark was nowhere to be seen, presumably in some place dry. She immediately envied him, safe from Vicky's wrath for the moment and probably nursing his wounds. Then again, he probably got the brunt of her rage since he was around her the most. Part of her wished she'd never come back.

After all, if she hadn't come back, she wouldn't have to contend with her rage nor the fact that Timmy obviously hated her right now. If he didn't, he wouldn't have even thought of suicide, because just the notion of him dying on her tore her up inside. Tears sprung to her face again and, in the light of the fading rain, Vicky saw them clearly.

Damn it, she'd promised herself she wouldn't cry, though. All the walk over here that was what she did. She couldn't stop crying, like a leaky faucet.

She hadn't felt the tug at her mind, so she knew at least he hadn't gone through with it. Unbidden, recollections of the What-If Spell struck her and she swallowed hard, recalling what it'd been like to see herself commit suicide in front of him. She hoped to whomever was listening he wasn't waiting just to reenact that part.

After all, she'd been through, she wasn't sure she could stand it if something happened to him. Even if he hated her, even if he was suicidal, she needed him so badly. Right now, she was certain she'd do anything he asked of her, if only it meant keeping him alive.

Timmy… Tootie whimpered in thoughtspeak, aware that Vicky had risen from the steps and was now approaching her, pounding a fist into her palm. She wasn't sure he could hear her, but, if he could, maybe he'd tell her something good for a change. Not that she was asking for a lot, but an apology and an 'I love you' would suffice.

"Where the hell were you?" Vicky burst out, slamming Tootie to the ground before she had time to react. Stunned, she skidded into the driveway and banged her head against the pavement. Even if weeds had begun to grow, it still hurt like a bitch.

A thousand replies came to her head, but, then, she remembered what Jorgen had told her. Only one human and one fairy could learn of her escapades, no one else. If she told Vicky, then she couldn't tell Timmy. And, simply put, that wasn't an option.

More than anything, he had to know the truth of why she was there. If she could tell him everything, share with him her memories and then use the transistor to verify them, he'd love her again. He'd hold her in his arms and tell her that she need never return to those horrid places, that if they wanted her to fight, they'd have to go through him first. Even though she was hardly a damsel in distress, it'd be nice to have them yell at him for a change.

Plus, then she could finally relax. No more tensions, no more thoughts of what to do or say so Timmy wouldn't react badly. Everything would be sheer bliss…and she would have the only person she ever wanted to kiss away her fears.

Therefore, there was no way in a frozen hell she'd ever tell Vicky where she was. She could beat the living shit out of her, but she wouldn't say a word. The truth was reserved for Timmy and Timmy only. Besides, she could always tell Vicky later, if she was allowed to. She wasn't the most important person in her life, anyway.

The sky opened up and another downpour commenced, causing Tootie to choke as water poured into her mouth. Rain soaked her to the bone, or so it felt, and she wanted nothing more than for this ordeal to be over so she could find him. Vicky could shove her around all she wanted (within reason), but, when she had her fun, then she'd be free to leave.

"Answer me, you little whore!" Vicky roared and, in a second, Tootie recalled Katrina.

_Patty cake, patty cake, baker's man. Bake me a whore as fast as you can…_

Tootie reared up, roaring in anger. Vicky became Victoria, Loreto's right-hand girl. Other than the fact Vicky clearly didn't have any magical powers, she could be a clone. More anger surged through her and her heartbeat raced.

A very dangerous look crept into Tootie's eyes then, and, were Vicky not under the influence of yet another mood swing, she'd back away. Murder displayed itself prominently- Tootie had never quenched her thirst for vengeance in that world. Loreto, instead, had managed to beat her senseless. If she recalled right, after what Cal told her, that version of Wanda had saved the day while she lay unconscious.

Before her, she saw only versions of The Other that she had fought and, with anger surging through her veins and rendering her inebriated, she attacked. Limbs flailed everywhere, but it was nothing to the furious words being uttered under her breath. What was on earth was going on? When had Tootie gone insane?

Not only that, but if she persisted, she'd give her a miscarriage. She'd better think of something, and quick. (Not to mention she still wanted to kick her ass for disappearing on her).

A small, brown rod stuck out of Tootie's pocket and, as she lunged, Vicky snatched it. In her hands, it became a wand, rendering Tootie confused long enough for her to strike. Hmm, she didn't know humans could use magic. Oh, well, another problem for another day.

Taking advantage of her newly disorientated state, she slammed hard into her, shoving her against the garage door and, then, punched her in the face. Tootie cried out, reaching for the transistor, but Vicky held it, and, surprisingly, it pinned her to the door. Well, whatever this little device was, it sure was handy.

Rage filled her sister as she struggled against the magic of the transistor, but she couldn't budge an inch. It converted to a baton in Vicky's hands, all the while still pinning her to the door. She swallowed hard, aware of just how dire her straits were right now.

Tootie? Timmy sent and his message caught her off guard. Sorrow, mingled with regret, laced his telepathy.

What on earth could he be regretting, though? Was he lamenting her return? Or, no, the obvious answer was- someone had stopped him. Whoever it was, she thanked them from the bottom of her heart, yet she sincerely doubted Timmy felt the same.

As though coming back from a mission mentally and physically exhausted wasn't bad enough, now she had to contend with him. If what she'd seen before was correct, she'd soon be wishing she hadn't mouthed off to Jorgen and could just spend the rest of her life on various missions. After all, at least there, nothing was permanent and, if she didn't like the situation, she need only spend a day in that universe. Here, the torment was never-ending.

Speaking of never-ending, when had Vicky become so cruel? Well, yes, she'd always been cruel, but today, it seemed she'd taken things up a notch. Despite the fact that her entire front was soaked from the recent downpour, she made no effort to go inside and change and instead decided to spend her time berating her. As though it was her fault Jorgen had appointed her to be Fairy World's bitch.

Why had he chosen her, over all others? What was so special about her? Or did he just find it amusing to play around with some random kid's emotions and then shove them into places they didn't belong? How about wreak some havoc on their relationships and then turn them into a monster? Sure, that sounded like fun.

Anger blazed in her eyes, but she sincerely doubted Vicky noticed. Although she continued to lunge at her, her thoughts continually shifted to one area- Jorgen. No matter how you sliced it, he was using her. How dare he!

Cal called her a missionary, but missionaries got paid. So far, the only thing she'd received was isolation from her boyfriend, hatred from her sister, and a general feeling of being unwanted. Where was her payoff for putting her life and her relationships on the line? Where was her payoff for losing her childhood like that? What right did he have to thrust her into a situation where she had utterly no idea how to handle herself and yet, he didn't care? Who the hell decided it was all right to just shove children into a battle arena?

That's all she was, when it came down to it, a child. All she wanted to do was relax and play around, like the kid she'd been oh-so long ago. Yet, this chance had been denied her, simply because Jorgen had to fuck around with her life. The more she thought about it, the more she hated him.

Like a boiling pot, the anger bubbled and steamed within her. Vicky might have disliked her for 'abandoning her and leaving her to her own devices', but the resentment within Tootie was so strong, it was nearly palpable. In fact, if she bit her lip, the blood racing through it, in her mind, was so hot, it nearly burned. How long had she harbored such hatred? She had no idea, but it was time to fight back.

No one should be allowed to push her around, least of all her shitty, pregnant sister. She'd taken her abuse for long enough without saying a word, but she simply couldn't take it anymore. There was a time and a place for everything, but Tootie wasn't that little girl that she loved to screw over royally. If she thought she was just a pushover, then she was greatly mistaken- Tootie was a force to be reckoned with.

And so was the transistor, she realized suddenly. Vicky tossed it back and forth between her hands, its form shifting at first into the scythe she'd used to murder Lorelei, then the whip Loreto had used on her, and, finally, a representation of Katrina. Before she could reformulate her anger, her rage against the system that had used her and abused her, Vicky struck.

First, the whip tore into her frame and, once again, she felt the white hot pain, like being branded with an iron, tear into her abdomen. Vicky showed no mercy, merely smirking as Tootie attempted to flee her attack. The whip caught her wherever Vicky deigned, including her hands, the side of her face, and, if she hadn't ducked, it would have broken her neck. That particular near miss stole the breath from her lungs.

The transistor transformed into the scythe, but Vicky discarded it as soon as it appeared. Were she to kill Tootie, she'd prefer it was by accident and not intentional. For the meanwhile, she'd pretend she still had some affection for the girl (which she did, it was just buried under resentment and scapegoating her for everything).

Swiftly, the transistor transformed into a baton that Vicky raised against her sister. Tootie, fortunately, had the common sense to duck and quickly move out of the way, this time jumping up to try to retrieve her weapon. Although she was growing (as most adolescents begin to), she still came up short against her sister. With a sweeping motion, Vicky caught her in mid-jump and flung her against the garage door.

However, if she thought that would deter her, she was far from correct. Fury shone in her eyes and she'd no sooner landed then launched a counter attack, kicking under Vicky's feet and attempting to knock her down. Vicky jumped up, narrowing avoiding her strike.

Nonetheless, jumping, in her state, was not a great idea and she groaned, clutching her stomach. Despite her resentment, queasiness now claimed her and she glowered at her sister; her fingers wrapped about the transistor, transforming into a net that paralyzed Tootie to the door. Struggling did no good, as it appeared to be a variation on the Chinese finger trap.

Tootie, bereft of any other action, spat in her face. She had the unsettling feeling as though something she didn't wish to discuss would suddenly come flying out and wanted to, therefore, avoid any entanglements. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Mark approaching and she hoped, through some sheer stroke of luck, that Vicky would be detained long enough for Tootie to get some vengeance.

"Now, where were you?" Vicky snapped coolly, eyes narrowed in anger. She had yet to wipe off the saliva from her right cheek, a fact that made her smirk. It continued to drip down her face, yet she pretended as though it didn't exist.

No answer issued forth from her, not being of a stupidity to voice what she could only tell one human and one fairy, and so, seizing upon her innermost thoughts, a shockwave ensued. Tootie bit back a cry of pain; this time as what felt like the equivalent of a hundred volts zipped through her body. She had no doubt that as the answers grew less to Vicky's satisfaction, she'd be in more pain. How fit for Vicky to use such methods, but she wouldn't learn anything. Not if she had anything to do with it.

"It's none of your damn business," Tootie hissed, unable to do much other than leer and spit again. Once again, Vicky ignored it. Surely she knew how angry she was making her, but, in all likelihood, she didn't give a damn.

Unfortunately, this was nowhere near sufficient and she bit back another howl as a more painful shockwave shook her. Think of anything, anywhere but this, that was the ticket. Just pretending that Vicky wasn't there would do wonders, wouldn't it?

"I think it is," Vicky hissed, shoving against her. The ironic thing was she couldn't put herself face to face because her abdomen had swollen. Still, the leer she gave her was far from mildly hostile. Tootie supposed the viciousness burning in her eyes had to make do for the little she could do physically to her without harming herself in the aftermath.

Tootie soon discovered that, at the end of a long day, she had little control over her mouth. Even though Vicky temporarily wielded all the power in this situation, she was just too sick of everything and everyone else to really give a damn what happened to her. As far as she was concerned, everyone could just go to Hell in a hand basket.

"I think you need to fuck off, bitch," Tootie growled, struggling again only to have the net give off triple the normal amount. Grand, now she saw stars, but that didn't mean she was going to submit to this type of torture. Perhaps she'd have the good fortune to pass out before Vicky got any answers out of her.

Vicky growled herself, more out of frustration than anything else, and punched Tootie through the net (which was only solid on her side), in the abdomen, already tender from another whip mark she herself had dealt. Pain filled her, yet she strove not to cry out, not to make a sound. Giving her the satisfaction of knowing she hurt her would only make the pain worse, not better. Not to mention the stigma of letting her sister win would only increase with time.

"Don't ever talk to me like that," She snarled, grabbing a pigtail and yanking it as hard as she could. Her eyes watered, yet she cried not. Vicky didn't deserve to know how much she was hurting her, didn't deserve anything.

"Make me stop," Tootie replied, only it was more of a whimper. She cursed herself mentally, hating that she'd stooped to this level. Even so, everything ached. God, what a bitch.

"I'm going to ask you one more time then I'm going to make you scream. How do you think your precious Timmy will feel, already suicidal, when he hears you cry out? He can't protect you, so why not just let him wallow in misery? I'm sure he already does," Vicky spat, grabbing both of her pigtails and yanking so hard, Tootie cried out involuntarily. As soon as she did, she slapped her hard across the face, leaving red prints, and then the net zapped her again.

"Leave Timmy out of this!" She screamed, tears springing to her eyes. Again, she saw Mark, but he hung back. Why on earth wasn't he stopping her? Didn't he care?

Then, again, out of the corner of her eye, movement in the window above her. Timmy was watching her…he had heard her scream out. Great, just great. He'd probably find some way to twist it into her fault. Like she'd brought it upon herself to make Vicky torture her.

"Not unless you tell me where you went," Vicky hissed, taking out a pair of scissors from her pocket and holding it precariously close to her hair. Fine, let her cut it, she didn't care. Just so long as she cut it and then gave up, shoving her to the side in light of her pregnancy or whatever. She didn't care.

Tootie, what's going on? Timmy sent, worry mingled with anger. Of course, everyone was angry with her. Everyone hated her. Fine, let them hate her, she didn't need them, she didn't need anyone.

I'd tell you, but then you'd find some way to twist it into a nasty remark about how I obviously deserve this and that I'm a bitch. Oh, and that I don't care about that, I just abandoned you, and if I want to make you happy, I should just drop dead. Isn't that what you want to hear?

Cautiously, she felt Timmy respond. That's how I thought you felt about me…other than the bitch thing.

The jury's still out on that one, Tootie spat, surprising herself with her venom. However, try as she might to say she hated him or that she wished the worst things in the world would happen to him, she could not. Telepathy meant, no matter how furious you were with a person, you couldn't lie straight to their faces. Telling him she hated him was a lie…but one she wished to tell him badly right now. End the pain, become apathetic again.

I…I heard you cry. Are you okay? He asked gingerly, and, almost as though he were probing her, she felt him stroke her mind. It was probably the only way he knew how to mentally massage her, but it was really weird and she didn't much like it.

Unable to find some way to reply negatively, she found herself asking a question that was not entirely a lie. Wow, she'd never realized how hard it was to argue with someone you discovered was your soul mate in telepathy. It was damn near impossible.

Do you care? She sent instead, accidentally sending him the awkwardness that came with that question as well. Meanwhile, much to her anger, Tootie wasn't responding to Vicky's threats. She was far too busy to entertain her stupid sister, anyway.

Instantly, with a calmness that took her breath away, he replied immediately, Yes.

It was this and Vicky's next move, actually. As the transistor released her and she slid down to the pavement, it converted to a truth telling machine; cords seized upon her and prevented her movement. The one thing she had to say- Vicky certainly did like her paralyzed. When she got movement back, boy, was she in for it…

"I'm going to ask you one more time," She hissed, pressing a manicured nail on the red button (weren't they always red buttons?) that operated the machine. Tootie eyed her sister warily, yet knew nothing short of the apocalypse could rob her of her secret.

"Where were you?" Vicky screamed, slamming her hand down on the button. Fully prepared to lie, say anything that wasn't the truth, Tootie was therefore stunned by what tumbled out of her mouth.

"I was on a mission for Fairy World! They're sending me to stop all the versions of The Other that crop up. I don't want to do it, but he forced me there, using Cal as bait.

"Yes, I know Cal's dead, but he appeared to me in a dream and that was the first mission. I had to deal with an evil version of myself and I had to kill her. Her name was Lorelei and she loved your counterpart, but she couldn't take the fact that your counterpart ran to Mark only because she got drunk and tried to rape her.

"I don't know why the missions take so long, but they do. They're only one day to me, but it's the longest day I've ever been through in my life. It's like torture being there, with all these counterparts and all these fucked up universes.

"The one after that had a screwed up version of Crocker that kept all the fairies in cages and used a whip on me to try and stop Cal and his girlfriend Daniela from ruining his control. I don't think I won that one, because I only remember awakening later 'cuz he knocked me out.

"The last one had a version of Trixie and I slept with that version of Timmy…I only did it because I wanted him so badly…I wanted him to understand…"

Here she trailed off, the magic of the transistor pausing as did her sister. Oh, God, she'd really said too much, hadn't she? Now she couldn't tell Timmy anything at all. She'd used up her person on her goddamn sister!

"Oh, shit…" She murmured sadly, tears springing to her eyes. If only she could reach them and wipe them off, but, alas, she could not. And Vicky was making no motion to her, what a surprise. Bitch, she didn't understand the sacrifice she'd just made. There were no other humans she could tell now. Timmy couldn't know…he'd never let her near him again…

She was a slut, marred by her obsessions. All she'd wanted was some genuine affection. If she were stronger, better, she'd never have stooped so low. She was pathetic.

As if he could sense her train of thought, or, at least, a vague concept of it, Timmy shoved her out and the link faded. He hated her, she'd thought as much. She wished it hurt less than it actually did.

Bereft of anything to say, Vicky kicked her hard in the shin and then left silently. There was no need for any more words, anyway. Tootie had screwed herself over.  
…  
Wanda awoke strangely cold. This was especially peculiar considering what had just happened, but, until she opened her eyes, she supposed that Cosmo had poofed in a fan or something. He'd say something stupid and she'd laugh because she loved him.

He'd shown her just how much he loved her just now…It'd been perfect. With all his heart and soul, he'd given himself to her and her to him. When their bodies met, it was like the divining of the gods. She'd never been closer to heaven.

Yawning slightly, but far from tired, she snuggled closer to him. Nonetheless, the cold sensation continued. She didn't understand it, but her wings shuddered. Normally, wings did not operate without the knowledge of the fairy, but, this time, they expressed an unnatural aversion to something.

This time, she opted to open her eyes. Her fingers coursed over his bare shoulders, but, before she could tousle his hair, a scream tore from her. Cosmo, in all likelihood, appeared not to be breathing. What was more; feeling around his chest told her he had no pulse. Other than the fact she knew quite clearly that if he'd died, she'd have felt the drop from her mind, he looked dead.

"Cosmo!" Wanda cried, turning him over onto his back and trying mouth to mouth.

In the background, out of her eyesight, a boy formerly alive teleported into the room. He took in the sight of Wanda attempting to recover her husband in stride and, when she'd exhausted her breath and was now pushing desperately at his chest, he spoke up. After all, it was only fair to tell her what she was in for.

"A life for a life, Wanda," The child formerly known as Remy Buxaplenty said coolly, stepping up to her and, nonchalantly, without his expressionless face moving in the slightest bit, he touched Cosmo's cold back. Her eyes followed him, her arms gripping him close to herself as though her warmth might revive him. She hadn't the foggiest notion what he was up to, but she was frightened now.

Then, still coldly, inhumanly, he snatched his left wing in his hand and ripped it out of his back. No blood spilled, there was nothing there. No wing replaced itself. A chill hung in the air.

"What have you done?" Wanda whispered, rising to her feet awkwardly and holding the blanket in front to conceal her nudity. She needn't have bothered- even when Remy Buxaplenty was alive, he wasn't interested in the opposite sex. Her modesty was lost on him.

"Although I cannot kill him just yet, I have robbed him of that which will eventually rob him of his life. I have taken his soul," The child formerly known as Remy remarked monotonously, glancing at the wing he held and smashing it to pieces in front of her.

"That is a representation of his life. When all the shards crumble into dust, which they will in a matter of time, he will die. Then, I will finally reap his body and claim my victory over him once and for all. He will pay for murdering my Juandissimo." He spoke coldly, no emotions creeping into his voice at all.

Wanda cringed deeply, her fingers unconsciously stroking Cosmo's locks. Other than the fact she knew him to be still alive, he had all the other signs of rigor mortis. Possessing a sliver of his soul was the only thing keeping him alive right now. He was a near zombie.

"All of his soul is not gone, however," The creature formerly known as Remy spat bitterly. Or, rather, in anyone human, it would have been this way. One had to imagine it; otherwise, one would be shivering uncontrollably such as Wanda.

"It will be mine in time, as soon as you relinquish all hope of his recovery. Until then, I bid you adieu…and hope the sex was enjoyable."

With that, he vanished. Wanda, bereft of any other reaction, merely stared straight ahead, still clutching Cosmo to her like a life preserver.  
…  
Lorenzo DeMedici paced the lifeless arena of the space behind the mirror. Every once in a while, he'd cast a glance outside, towards the door where he could hear Tootie crying. It wasn't the same type of crying she'd done before, but now a hopeless sort.

Now if he really gave a damn about her, he'd be concerned. However, to the best of his knowledge, Timmy still loved her, and, therefore, he was still jealous. He wanted to be the one for him, no one else.

Sure, he knew that Wanda had told him that he was forbidden to touch him, that doing so would violate their terms of agreement. What harm could one touch do him? All he wanted was to hold him in his arms again…

From the sidelines, he'd seen him and realized he hadn't yet gotten out of depression. Well, that was what he was for, to comfort him. (Nothing had yet sunk in concerning the fact that he'd actually induced it).

Not only this, he was helpless to do anything when Vicky raged against the household. No longer was he prey to any sort of feelings for her, thankfully. Instead, he found his attention drawn to, of course, his beloved Timmy but another.

"Wanda…" Lorenzo breathed, hugging himself for the scant warmth available. He hadn't the foggiest idea, but, suddenly, the pent up aggression and frustration at being unable to place her on either the side of hatred or adoration vanished. What was left in its wake was an inexplicable attraction.

Slamming his head against the surface of the mirror, he sighed. There was little he could do about it, of course. Wanda was out there and here he was, stuck in this hell. If only there was some way to escape his prison.

Gingerly, he pressed his fingertips against the glass and, to his surprise, he felt air beyond it. There was a way out; he just had to find it.

At least he wasn't running short on time. He could stay up all night and figure this out…where was he going but nowhere?  
…  
Tootie slumped upstairs, her feet dragging. Tears had dried on her face, but the ache in her heart continued. She'd made such a mistake telling Vicky…and now Timmy would never let her in. He'd keep shoving her away and telling her how much he hated her until the end of time.

She didn't even glance in Timmy's room until he called out to her. (The paralysis had ended as soon as Wanda invoked another magical spell). The voice jarred her briefly out of thoughts she'd rather not have and she glanced over at him.

"You aren't going to come and say hello?" He murmured weakly, rising to his feet and walking to his doorway. The shirt Wanda had dressed him in was low cut and her eyes immediately fell to the scars on his chest. They remained glued to there.

"I thought you didn't want anything to do with me," Tootie countered, finding herself murmuring as well. Before she could add anything more, he snatched her hand and kissed it. Butterflies rose in her stomach and a pleasant tingle spread throughout her body.

His eyes took her in hungrily and they stared at each other, suddenly ravenous for any sort of touch. It'd been so long since they'd seen each other, too long. This thought passed through both of their minds before Timmy kissed her hard; she reciprocated, opening her mouth for their tongues to slide over and play. This was what she'd waited so long for…this was heaven…

His hands slid through her hair, releasing them from their pigtails and tenderly caressing the sore spots on her scalp. As he did this, one hand removed itself and he backed her up, lightly pushing her back onto his bed. They continued to make out, only coming up for breath on the rare occasion.

Again, they broke it and Tootie, beaming, looked up at her beloved Timmy. He beamed back at her before kissing her first on the lips and then beginning to suck on her neck. An involuntary moan escaped her, so ecstatic that he was doing this.

Tootie… He moaned in telepathy, whilst his hands ran down her sides and played lightly with the bottom of her vest. Adrenaline ran through her and she wondered if she was going to shove him away…or let him proceed. As much as she despised herself for wanting him this badly, he wanted her just as badly, right? So that made it okay, right?

Take it off… She sent breathlessly, feeling his hands slide across her bare stomach. No, the scar marks, they were still there. Damn Vicky, she had to ruin everything, didn't she?

Abruptly, he stopped, removing his hands from beneath her vest and his lips from her neck. Fury blazed in his eyes and he slapped her. Tootie gazed up at him; she was completely bewildered.

"Where the hell were you? No, wait, don't answer that. You were out whoring around, weren't you? Off with some other guy who gave you those marks-" He accused, rising from her and regarding her with contempt. God, he'd been kissing her just a half a minute ago. Couldn't he go back to sliding his tongue on her mouth and pulling her top off?

"Vicky gave me these marks!" Tootie retorted, longing to pull him back atop her and start again. Please, Timmy, believe me for just this once…

"Just now! Please, you have to believe me!" She protested, simulcasting it telepathy so he knew she wasn't lying. She seized one of his hands, only he ripped it from her grasp. Never before had she seen such fury on his face.

"Get out," He spat contemptuously. Soundlessly, she rose from his bed and, before leaving, glowered at him from the door.

"I thought, somehow, that this would be different. That you'd finally love me. I was an idiot. You wanna kill yourself so badly, Timmy Turner? You have my blessing!" With that, she slammed the door as hard as she could, right in his face. There was a satisfying crack as it hit his face and, then, silence.  
…  
To her surprise, she found Gary in her room, perched upon her bed. Considering she thought she'd abandoned him a while ago, this shocked her. So did the next time thing coming out of his mouth.

"Tim-Tim treatin' you bad? I'll get him for you, if you want," Gary murmured, and, pressing her free hair against her neck with his hand, he kissed her softly on the lips.

…  
"Are you happy now?" Mark spat, surprising her. Vicky turned to face him, but, instead of feeling sorry for her sister, as he'd hoped, a malicious grin lit her features.

Now that she knew the grisly truth, she could blackmail her with it. It was perfect, simply perfect…

Oblivious to his thoughts, Mark jabbered on for a bit as Vicky plotted. Yes, she'd make her suffer for not being there, for causing her to become pregnant. It was all her fault and, in due time, she'd pay.  
…  
The shortest chapter in a long time, but I'm happy with it, for the most part. (slaps Timmy on the back of the head) You had Tootie where both of you wanted each other and you screwed that up!

On to reviews!

Moonjava- Er, thank you.

LgacyDX- Well, of course Timmy's messed up. You'd be messed up too if your parents were murdered by someone that raped you and tried to convince you to kill the only people that you cared about and cared about you.

And if Tootie keeps saying things like that, he'll never get out of his depression…

Yeah Loi- TOS is always heart wrenching and thank you…

L.C. Techno- Lol, it's also always depressing as well. It'll end when it ends, far from now, my dear.

SoulPoet- Happy? Positive? You have to be kidding me. Is any way anyone here can be happy in the near future? Jeez…

Northgalus2002- Girl, you haven't reviewed in such a long time…and Tootie has her own problems, which leads to more problems with Timmy. She doesn't mean what she said, of course, but he's hurt her so much already.

Now you hopefully know the answers to some of those questions…as for Timmy, he should if Wanda force feeds him.

I agree with you, that the characters in FOP are vastly different from what TOS has turned them into. And I hadn't know that about Wizard of Oz. Fortunately, this chapter outdid itself with ten reviews.

MisterBlue- Yeah, it did get more reviews for me. And I don't know what to say about the Tootie/Timmy thing. They're both having such troubles right now…

Lil JL- Heh…and thank you for reading all four chapters at once. My friend Cristin-chan once read all of Part One and Two in one sitting (this was before Part Three).

Ahhelga- Yes, it really is a pain in the ass to retype that over and over again. I can't call him Remy, either, because Remy's technically dead.

Um, you're welcome and poor Wanda. Yes, I noticed that Timmy got all the love and I felt bad about that.

vivi314- Everyone else has said this story is addictive, I suppose you concur. And thank you, I appreciate it.

Jentastic- Here, have a Cal plushie. I guess I'm making an exception in your case, since no one else got one…

Thank you for all your generous reviews and please continue to do so! Until we meet again…


	6. This Place is So Empty

Disclaimer: Fairly Oddparents has never belonged to me, but Lorenzo _does_. (As does Sophie, for that matter). Steal either of these and I will hunt you down online, no joke.

Chapter Six: This Place is So Empty

Vicky fought and scratched Mark, seeking to keep her from further harming Tootie. Although she found herself queasy often and fatigued, that didn't stop her from wanting her blood. Just the thought of what she might do to her made _him _nauseous. Therefore, it was best to just grab hold and hope she didn't try to murder him.

They sat, or, rather, attempted to sit, on the living room couch. The rest of the house was eerily silent, the last yells of Timmy and Tootie dying away. Apparently, Vicky enjoyed this immensely for a cat like smile perched upon her face.

_Now is the summer of our discontent_, Mark thought scowling, realizing if he did in fact pin his wife down, he'd risk hurting her. There had to be some way to get her to stop blindly causing mayhem and ruckus. Something had to give here.

Moreover, he'd heard Tootie's speech about her missions and discovered, much to his surprise, thatwhile he had great pity, Vicky didn't feel the same. From her telepathic empathy, he caught malicious glee. She hadn't said anything, but hewas certain that she'd use this against her. This pained him, but what else could he do?

In his arms, she panted, eyes darting around like wildfire. In conjunction with her thoughts, a nasty grin split her face and she rose, no longer fighting him. He had a bad feeling about this.

Placing his hands on her shoulders, he too rose. Despite being frightened to attempt sexual intercourse with her (which was probably where all this pent up energy was coming from, at least, he hoped), there had to be something to detain her from ruining the rest of Tootie's life. He'd heard the argument with Timmy and Tootie as well as she and they both knew her actions before had destroyed any chance they had of reconciling. What else could she want?

Not only that, but why did she persist in being so cruel lately? Yes, mood swings he understood, but he felt she was using them as an excuse (as well as the pregnancy) to permit her the upper hand. Rarely if ever had he seen her this violent, this abusive, and this malevolent. If he were still a Yugopotamian, he'd have been turned on, but now, in the light of her family and housemates' plight, matters were unpleasant to say the least. Surely there had to be a factor he hadn't satisfied causing this to occur. All he need do was find it, whatever it was.

>>Dearest Vicky>>, He began, but she shoved him back into the couch. Yet again her eyes were glued to the stairs and what led beyond them, into a place she hadn't been since before Mark had arrived on Earth. She was certain Tootie was waiting, probably crying her eyes out. This was all too perfect.

>>Sit, stay, don't come over>>, Vicky barked in telepathy and then laughed maniacally. It rang through the air and, against his will, Mark shuddered deeply. When she wanted to, she could really scare people.

Pounding her fist into her palm, she held it up over his head and then his groin before, snickering, she departed. He stared after her and wondered if he should have chased her. The answer, of course, was yes.

* * *

Holding the guardrail for dear life, Vicky wobbled unsteadily up the stairs. Every time she faltered, she reminded herself that (a), Tootie still had a beating coming and (b), she wasn't _that _pregnant. Both became a chant, repeated as often as required. They gave her strength, that was until she reached the landing and a soft chuckle halted her.

"You don't change a bit," A melodious voice chimed from beyond a curtain. She turned around but could not locate the source. Silk met her eyes, nothing more.

Eyes narrowed, she shoved as hard as she could at the smooth surface beyond the curtain. Nothing should happen when she did this, unless, of course, there was someone behind it. And oh, did that voice sound terribly familiar.

Again, she shoved at it, only, this time, it shoved back. Or, rather, she felt fingers pressed up against her own and she drew back with a gasp. What on earth was there?

No, correction, fingers and glass. Curiosity soon overcame her rage at Tootie and, peering at the curtain, she sought an ending to see beneath the surface. Something or someone had to be there and she was going to find out what if it killed her.

Repeatedly, she shoved, hoping against hope she wouldn't have to bend down and retrieve that loose bit of cloth. Unfortunately, shoving proved useless other than receiving mocking, derisive laughter at the other end. God, how that voice taunted her with its familiarity. Still, she hadn't heard it in months.

"My, my, Vicky, you never see the easy answer, do you?" Again, the soft, almost baleful laughter and, as her fingers touched the surface of the mirror with the curtain acting as a buffer, she felt airy, magical fingers brush her own. Good Lord, this was so creepy. Who the hell was behind that damned thing?

"I can wait all day. Can you?" A shadow flitted behind the curtain and then, she saw the fingers that had brushed against her own as they lightly played with the bottom. Since the figure appeared trapped, he could only shove it away, not pick it up.

Trepidation, but more anger, filled her and, ignoring the fact it was difficult to bend down, she yanked up the curtain. Stumbling back, she gasped for breath until, leaning against the wall and panting, she peered at the contents within. So far, she saw utterly nothing. There was no man behind the mirror; she was imagining things.

"Dearest Vicky," The voice mocked again. "Come into the darkness."

"Go to hell!" She barked, hugging herself for warmth. "You aren't real!"

How often had he heard that one? Okay, so it was fairly new to him, but, nonetheless, he found this game quite amusing. Wanda hadn't specifically told him he couldn't play with Vicky's or anyone else's heads and, besides, it seemed to him that this bitch needed to be taught a lesson.

"Aren't I?" Lorenzo answered, smirking in the darkness beyond the scope of the mirror. Now, she caught the vague outline of a man, but nothing more. Piece by piece, he'd show himself.

What harm was there, anyway? Mark was too petrified to do anything, Wanda was somewhere with Cosmo,and Timmy and Tootiewere upstairs probably mourning the continuation of their virginity. No one was going to stop him or come to her rescue. She was all his for the taking…a thought that hadn't occurred to him in some time.

Apparently, the sight of an outline frightened her not and she scoffed, no longer finding him terrifying in the slightest. Deigning that her fatigued mind was playing tricks on her, she turned towards the stairs once more. However, the man behind the mirror was not inclined to permit her to leave so quickly. After all, he had yet to have his fun.

Damn this infernal mirror for preventing him from touching her, though. Wouldn't that make his threat that much more palpable, if he could just reach out and grab her? Besides, it'd give him that greatly needed adrenaline rush he'd missed oh-so much.

"Oh, _Vicky_," The Other said in a sing-song voice. "Didn't you miss me? It's me, Lorenzo DeMedici, your first time."

In an instant, the color drained from her face and she slid to the floor. Words failed; all she could do was gawk at him as he fully emerged. Tremors shook her body and she squeaked like a mouse, eyes as wide as a deer caught in the headlights.

As if on cue, her hands massaged her belly, reassuring herself that she had gotten over him. Still, since Mark had fended him off, that was the last time she'd seen him. Rumor had it that Timmy had killed him, yet here he was, the man in the mirror.

Or was he only in the mirror? If that were so, then he couldn't possibly hurt her. That didn't explain him pushing back at her, though. How far could he reach beyond his glassy tomb?

"You're dead," Vicky said, the whole moment surreal. Again, her fingers grasped her belly, sliding over its contours. He was dead, she was pregnant with Mark's child, and everything was as it should be. He couldn't haunt her anymore.

"Au contraire, Icky Vicky, I'm very much alive." _Although I can't step much further than my enclosure. Wanda must have put up a magical block. I'll speak to her about that as soon as she returns- she must be in a better mood after having sex with Cosmo. _

_Hmph, Cosmo, that moron. He doesn't deserve her. Then again, she went crazy without him…but that was Juandissimo's doing, for once, not mine. I wonder what she'd be like if he ever left her again, for whatever reason._

_Hmm…_

"Timmy killed you!" She gasped, eyes now darting to Mark, who, receiving her anxiety, rose to his feet. It was that and a combination of raw hatred against the one who had hurt her so badly. He didn't understand the concept of the mirror, but what did it matter? If it was glass, it could shatter and so could Lorenzo's face when he got his fists on it.

"He did and yet…" A quirky smile crossed his face. "I implore you to move closer to me, Vicky."

"No!" She screamed, catching the attention of Tootie and Timmy, the former of whom shut her door empathetically and the latter flipped her the finger before slamming _his _door. Well, no help was forthcoming from those two, that was for damn sure. However, this didn't factor in Mark, climbing up the steps with a look to kill.

No, this wouldn't be any fun with Mark here to sneer at him. As soon as he arrived, he'd fade back into the shadows. Perhaps Mark would deem his new wife crazy, giving Lorenzo a great deal of mirth. This popping in and popping out business could provide decent entertainment for once.

"The man in the mirror bids you adieu, Vicky. He'll be back soon…" With that, he faded back into the shadows, leaving Mark to glower at an empty frame. Although this was a mirror, he couldn't see his reflection. Something seemed off, nearly magical about this wall adornment. Whatever it was, it'd caused Vicky to draw back in terror.

Trembling in anger himself, he grasped the edges and shook them heartily. The surface of the mirror quaked, yet there was no reaction from within. From Lorenzo's viewpoint, he was merely altering the boundaries of his mirror, nothing more. However, he didn't laugh. It was best to make Mark think it was all in his wife's mind. The only being that actually knew of his existence wouldn't tell them the truth, anyway.

"Come out!" Mark roared, punching the glass at random. Nothing happened- the glass didn't break, it was like punching a solid wall. This was no ordinary mirror.

Again he lunged, only, this time, Lorenzo stuck his arm out and squeezed his fist painfully. A satisfying sound of bones running together rang through the air and, while Mark retreated, favoring his other hand, The Other returned to the shadows again to play another day. _Beware the man in the mirror, Vicky._

* * *

The next few minutes passed like hours. Without that entertainment, he had precious little to do. What on earth _was _there but sleep and observation? Not to mention no one walked past his mirror, so he couldn't see anything.

After that predicament, Vicky and Mark abruptly changed their minds about going upstairs and headed into the basement. Sadly, he had to admit he might have helped Tootie by diverting her sister. Ugh, just the thought of helping that _whore_ made his skin crawl. Then again, by helping Tootie, he might have helped Timmy. It was a double sided coin and he didn't much like either end.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a pink poof and tensed, knowing it to be Wanda immediately. Lines filled her face, her hands trembled as they held her wand, and her face had the same amount of color as Vicky's. What on earth had happened? Surely, the sex couldn't have been _that_ bad.

"Wanda?" The Other called out and, temporarily driven out of her rambling, nonsensical thoughts, she turned in his direction. Good Lord, she looked worse from the front than she did from the side.

Words failed her and, for a few moments, she lay down by his mirror and sobbed. He, reaching out to her, sank to his knees. Even if he could just barely reach her; he just wanted to hold her.

Her fingers trembled for her wand and she waved it once, granting him the ability to step outside, but only for a certain distance. Right now, she didn't want him running rampant around the house, but releasing him couldn't possibly do that much harm, could it? Besides, the mirror was an awfully lonely place.

He gulped down fresh, real air greedily. Everything looked so much more vivid and lifelike here. Then, it struck him- she hadn't just released him from the mirror, she'd released him from his death sentence. She'd given him life again.

Before he had time to ponder it, his arms enclosed her and she found herself bawling uncontrollably into his chest. Tentatively, he stroked her hair (this seemed to be the right thing to do) and sat, Indian style, on the floor with her pressed against him. Despite the wetness of her tears, she possessed warmth he hadn't felt in such a long time.

Tenderly, getting used to this, he pat her back. All ideas were new to him; he was just playing it by ear. The only way he had any concept of what to do was he remembered Wanda doing the same with Timmy when he was upset. Wanda…the only benevolent woman he could remember from Timmy's past.

Then, unsure, he stroked her wing and she froze. There were different ways- other fairies sometimes did it in a circular motion for therapeutic results. However, in his way, he'd accidentally pressed against an aphrodisiac sac. Wings could calm a fairy, but, if touched in the right manner, turn them on as well. Unwittingly, he'd done so.

Wanda shuddered deeply, but she pulled herself away from him. Her eyes narrowed, and then she recalled that he couldn't possibly have known what effect that would have. Timmy never touched her wings, no human had, so his memories regarding that must be incomplete.

"Don't do that," She murmured softly, taking his hands and placing them, somewhat nervously, on her lower back again. Anyone touching her wings made her uneasy. Only Cosmo had the right to do so…Cosmo…

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" The Other frowned, discovering his hand seemingly had a mind of its own, tracing the roots of her wings. Deep down, unconsciously, he realized this had to have a rather, well, _pleasant _effect. Then again, it was also that the unconscious desire to please her took full root. Besides, her wings felt so pleasant, so smooth against his finger.

"It…" She blushed scarlet, finding her mind at least momentarily fleeing from what had just happened with Remy and trying to find an adequate but civil way to tell Lorenzo what he'd done. She didn't dare be rude enough to use the colloquialisms, but another blush spread at the realization that he might enjoy the knowledge. Perhaps she'd better lie and tell him otherwise.

In an incredibly small voice, which he had to strain to hear, she uttered, "It…does things to me…"

"Like…?" Lorenzo pressed, enjoying her unease. Not that he had anything against her for the moment, but forcing her to come and say what she wouldn't normally amused him greatly. Surely she wouldn't go as far as to utter what he thought. Even after whatever upset happened, she wouldn't fall that far.

"It's an aphrodisiac," She murmured, glancing anywhere but at him. Again, the heat rose and she decided perhaps it was better if she spoke to Timmy about what happened. Then again, if she did she'd have to face telling him about her own state of affairs, which she might avoid around Lorenzo, happy enough to be free from the mirror. She could always threaten him if he didn't comply, anyway.

"In other words," Lorenzo said, grinning from ear to ear, "it turns you on."

"Y-yes…" She stammered, sliding out of his arms. This was becoming increasingly awkward. Perhaps she'd best make a quick exit before things got out of hand (provided they hadn't already, which she wasn't terribly sure about).

Once again, his fingers brushed her wing, this time more forceful than before. On the outside, the outlines of her wing were rough, but the surface was smooth and now fairly heated. He could see the translucent veins pumping magical blood madly. Hmm, this had to be a precursor to something else…

"Stop," She protested, unpleasantly surprised to discover her plea came out not as a strong, sturdy statement but as a moan. She was upset and, when fairies were upset, the wings became highly sensitive. Just the slightest touch, in the right way, could set them off.

Hmm, he had the upper hand now. There were a great many things he could ask of her. For one thing, he'd always wondered what it'd be like to kiss her. In that condition, she couldn't refuse him, could she?

Leaning in and grinning like the Cheshire cat at mealtime, he found himself face to face with her wand. Apparently, being turned on against her will was not exactly one of Wanda's favorite things to do. Guessing by the fury in her eyes, he'd best rethink that kiss, at least for the moment.

"First time, I understand you don't realize rubbing my wings will…" Here she faltered, unwilling to saywhat he'd uttered so freely- 'turn me on'. Still, she knew that he knew what she was talking about,despite feigning ignorance. For the moment, she drew a blank why she'd resuscitated him in the first place, pain in the rear.

"Make you moan?" He supplemented, grinning devilishly. However, he kept his hands to himself this time, his eyes glued to the wand presented before her. As long as she had that and he couldn't do magic, he'd better listen to what she said or else.

Continuing on as though as she hadn't heard him, she added, "But the second time and you're just doing it for 'kicks'. I don't appreciate your using women in this fashion and I thought you might think higher of me than as a plaything in your little games. Give me one good reason not to turn you back into the mirror right now, _The Other_."

Using their dehumanizing name for him was like a slap in the face and, biting back an angry growl, he instead retreated another inch, closer to the mirror. How he loathed that place, so much like a tomb. She wouldn't dare send him back, would she? What if she did? What then? Would he ruin his only shot of life?

"I'm sorry," Lorenzo murmured, partly because he was and partly because her anger meant no trips to the outside world. Actually, it was much more of the latter than the former. She was awfully cute when she was enraged.

Before she had time to question that, the door opened and Timmy, now curious, peered down at them. Unconsciously, Lorenzo retreated for the safety of the mirror. For now, it was best not to be discovered. Glancing at Wanda told him, for her face had become terse and her body trembled slightly.

Wanda smirked, pleased for once that he was actually doing what was desired. Although she hadn't said as much, she didn't want to shock the hell out of her godson by letting him know that the being he'd killed recently conveniently came back to life (just like magic).

"Who are you talking to?" Timmy demanded, folding his arms across his chest. He took her, wand still poised (oops) to strike, her wings fluttering slightly (what was that about?) and the mysterious mirror, for the first timeevident. (She'd forgotten to cover that as well, oh crap…)

"No one!" Wanda said quickly, realizing immediately that he wasn't going to buy it. Perhaps she could just put a spell on him. Yes, magic would fix anything.

_You're panicking, _She reminded herself steely. _This is just your godson, not Jorgen Von Strangle. _

_Still, it's not like he'll be pleasantly surprised to realize Lorenzo's still alive. I know he still wants to hurt him and The Other can't defend himself sufficiently when he can only move within a foot of the mirror. Even though the fights Lorenzo started were hardly considered fair, I'd like to believe he's trying to change. If I can't force The Other to act just, how can I hope for my godson to do the same?_

_Jeez, I'm actually taking Lorenzo's side over my godson's. A few months ago, I never would have considered the possibility. How on earth could so many things have changed within a few months?_

_It's just that I can't take him asking me all those **questions**. That's all he seems to do, pry in my secret life. However, I can't think of another way to divert his attention than by telling him what Remy did. At least then he'll be 'let in'. _

"You're talking to someone," He accused, traversing the steps two at a time. Even though she found herself on Lorenzo's side, she nonetheless didn't want him to hurt himself. After all, he _was _her godson. Maybe she could play this off (hopefully).

Behind the mirror, Lorenzo paced nervously. Even though he'd enjoyed playing mind games with Vicky, when Timmy had killed him, he'd shown utterly no mercy. As much as he loved him, he doubted that love factored in when it came to his feelings regarding _him_.

Sidestepping carefully, she poofed up to him before he could closely examine the mirror. The only thing she could think of as a diversion would require telling him what had just happened, but what choice did she have? Leaving Lorenzo out would mean he'd start attacking him…plus he'd be bound to figure out somehow, that he'd been revived by magic. She wasn't ready to tell him that.

"Timmy…" She said, taking a deep breath. Floating in midair took more out of her than she realized and she plummeted, caught by a befuddled Timmy. What on earth could have turned her into that?

"We have to talk." The four most dangerous words when strung together in the English language.

* * *

Lamentably, Lorenzo stared up at the stairs again, but, this time, discovered he could move within a foot of the mirror. So she'd left the spell in place- accidentally or on purpose? Whatever the case, it was an improvement.

Touching her wings turned her on, he could definitely use that to his advantage later on. He didn't know exactly why, but exciting hergave him excitement as well. Whenever he got the chance, he'd do that again. Maybe things would be different then.

What on earth had she been so worked up about, though? She'd come to him in tears, pressing her face into his chest. He'd never seen her so miserable in his life, nor, as far as he could tell, short of when they'd nearly taken Timmy away from them, in Timmy's either. What could she be worried about?

Sighing heavily, he glanced up again at the door leading to Timmy's room. If she couldn't trust him, at least she could trust his sire. He'd missed his opportunity to comfort her, but Timmy would have his. On the bright side, he could now move in and out of his mirror a bit.

If only that were enough to appease him…

"Timmy…Wanda…" Lorenzo called softly to himself. There was no answer, but, in his room, Timmy shuddered deeply.

* * *

Tenderly, he placed his godmother on his lap. In his mind chorused the words, the stupid things he'd done while he was with Tootie. Part of him hated himself for coming onto her and the rest hated himself for letting her leave. God, how he wanted her.

Maybe it wasn't too late. Maybe she was waiting in her room and, after apologizing profusely and acting like the dog she believed him to be, she'd forgive him. She'd fling her arms around him and they'd start making out again. Just the thought of it caused pleasant shivers to course down his back.

However, he had worse problems to contend with right now. Who had Wanda been speaking to before? Why were her wings fluttering, as if excited? Moreover, why did he suddenly feel as he had when Lorenzo had been present? What on earth was she hiding from him?

In his typical brusque fashion, Timmy snapped, abandoning all pretenses, "What the hell is going on?"

Sighing heavily, she gazed up at the ceiling as if imploring heaven itself to help her. No answers came, so she supposed she ought to tell him as much of the truth as he could handle. This was going to take a while.

"Remy stole Cosmo's soul," Wanda spoke, stunned that she could speak of it in such a normal tone of voice. Perhaps when she'd broken down in front of Lorenzo, that was all she required. Maybe she could keep her cool around Timmy.

"_What_?" Timmy choked. Wide eyed, he took in her calm demeanor, pierced only by the uncontrollably quivers of her hands. Once again, she was feigning a great apathy than she felt. He could see it now in her eyes, putting up the front she always carried.

Tightly, he wrapped his arms around her; she'd never felt so slight before in his life. Everything in the world just kept piling down on her, smothering her inits weight. For the first time, he realized how selfish and painful his suicide attempts were. They'd only brought her down.

Although his feelings toward Cosmo were ambivalent at best, he loved Wanda deeply. She was the only mother he had left and, therefore, the closest thing he had. Even when he screwed up, bossed her around, treated her badly, shoved her away, or, more recently, tried to kill her, she still cared just as deeply about him as a real mother would. Seeing him like that must have broken her heart.

After all, she had to contend with what Juandissimo had done to her, her failing relationship with Cosmo, Vicky's pregnancy, Cosmo and his prying, but him trying to commit suicide had to be the straw that broke the camel's back. However, realizing it didn't help him that much. The truth was he was depressed and no amount of coercion or self convincing would tell him otherwise. It wasn't that he was a coward, but that everything that happened weighed so heavily upon him. He'd felt so alone…and now he realized Wanda probably felt the same.

As she told him what happened, omitting the details of her and Cosmo's sex life, he stroked her hair softly. When she finished, he had a confession to make. Sure, he was fairly certain she already knew, but he had to get off his chest. It wasn't fair to burden her with him.

Finishing with a tremendous sigh, she glanced up at him. He could tell how hard it was to let him in that far, but she'd no choice. He was probably the only person she could really talk to, other than Tootie.

Just thinking aboutTootie reminded him…he had to talk to her. They both knew he was being an idiot, but, more than that, he wanted her badly. Right now, he didn't care if she had marks on her stomach, so long as he was atop her again and tasting those cherry lips.

Trembling slightly, the little pink fairy glanced up at him and he smiled weakly at her. Now it was time for him to finally admit something he'd just discovered himself. After all, if it was confession time, he might as well.

"Wanda, I'm really sorry what I've put you through…" Timmy murmured, hanging his head.

"I know you have enough to deal with and it isn't fair to add to it…"

Tenderly, she hugged him tightly. From somewhere about his midriff, she murmured that she knew he was depressed. This was why she'd fought Cosmo so much before Juandissimo abducted her. Even then, she could see the telltale signs.

Sighing heavily, he lay back, cradling Wanda to his chest. Neither of them said a word for a good half hour, just enjoying each other's company. There was no need to speak, anyway. They both knew what each other thought.

* * *

Tootie shoved Gary away as hard as she could into her bed. He struck it about mid-back; his sunglasses tumbled off. Before he could grab them, she smashed them brutally, stomping repeatedly.

"How _dare _you!" She screamed, shoving him repeatedly. However, if she thought he was going to take this abuse, she was sadly mistaken. No sooner had she tried it a second time before he seized her about the wrists.

"I don't know _who _you think you are, but no one touches _me_ like that, capeesh? It isn't cool."

Spitting with anger herself, she found all the pent up aggression and frustration from her encounter with Timmy spilling over. In about five minutes, he'd heard everything in their relationship up until this point, give or take a few days. Now he could see why she was so upset, but not why she was clinging to that loser. After all, if he insisted on treating her that badly, then he didn't deserve her.

However, telling her this did no good. The only person in the world that she wanted was Timmy Turner, not the better looking, nicer Gary. Despite his many attempts to remind her of this, she wouldn't hear of it. Instead, she tried to shove him away again.

"Get out," She growled. Gary didn't budge an inch. He wouldn't until she admitted he was better.

"Make me." Although trepidation filled him, he caressed her cheek. She shut her eyes, imagining Timmy doing it. Timmy…

Ere either of them realized it, their heads grew closer and closer before his lips seized hers again. This time, she didn't protest, but submitted to the kiss. In her mind, she had Timmy finally.

Gary grinned triumphantly, thinking this meant that she'd finally abandoned her pursuit of Timmy. He couldn't be more wrong if he tried.

Speaking of the bucktoothed boy blunder, he'd decided to give Tootie an impromptu talking to. Being his usual, rude self, he didn't bother to knock. Besides, she should be waiting for him, right? Wrong.

"Tootie!" Timmy screamed, interrupting the kiss and Gary's private happiness. He'd darted into the room to apologize only to find this. Immediately, her heart sank to the bottom of her stomach.

>>He kissed me! I swear it!>> She cried in thoughtspeak, however, he turned his head away. So much for Tootie's innocence in his eyes- she'd just become guilty of a thousand more crimes, each more horrid than the last.

Abandoning all reason, she tackled him as hard as she could to the floor. At least with him pinned beneath her, he couldn't escape. Maybe now she could force some sense into him.

Their eyes met, hers desperately imploring him to realize the truth. His reflected stubbornly back- 'but you kissed him'. Like a tug of war, their eyes reflected their warring states, Tootie losing badly.

Finding no other recourse, she kissed him passionately. Maybe if he saw that she still loved him, still wanted him, he'd stop this charade. Nonetheless, it proved futile as he didn't kiss her back. Instead, his eyes glowed with anger and, as hard as _he _could, he shoved her off.

"Whore," Timmy spat, glowering at and then Gary. "I never should have trusted you in the first place."

With that, he shoved her again before leaving the room.

* * *

Sophie bit her lip, finding herself drawn out of her book and into the world of the housemates she only knew by name. If only she could help them, but their problems seemed too great for even a normal talk show host to handle. Besides, she hardly knew them.

Jumping at her feet was the book Timmy had stolen out of Lorenzo's library oh-so long ago. It clamored to be read and, smiling serenely at it, she scooped it up lovingly. Slowly, she was learning magic. So far, the spells were minor, but she was confident she could learn more. After all, she had all the time in the world.

Perusing the pages, she found one spell, but it turned out to be a dud. Surely there was a way to reverse the harmful effects of Juandissimo's potion. There just had to be- she wanted to go _home_!

Sophie might have sounded like a scared little girl, but that's all she was, basically. She only knew one creature somewhat well in this house, everyone else was an enigma. The redhead frightened her terribly, the bucktooth boy was unsympathetic, and everyone else was either apathetic or unsavory. More than ever, she wished she'd never been miserable enough to qualify for a godparent. She hadn't known true misery then.

Still, there had to be a way to reverse the effects, call back time. If only she could just find it, then she'd be out of here. She wouldn't miss anyone, except maybe Wanda a little. Other than that, they could all go stuff it.

_Please, someone…let me out of this nightmare…_Sophie pleaded silently, eyes on the wall next to her, where she could hear Timmy and Tootie screaming at each other again.

_Please…_

…

**Yeah, this was a shorter chapter. I looked at the older TOS chapters and most of them weren't nearly as long as I've turned them into. I decided that they don't need to be a certain length. As long as I've covered every base (and this particular saga is the ending one, anyway, so the events aren't as huge as before), it's all right.**

**Cutie5**- Thanks for your compliments. (smiles)

**Yeah Loi**- Thank you and Vicky's just a bitch. Besides, haven't you noticed that Timmy finds unique ways to twist things, anyway?

**Northgalus2002**- I think seeing Lorenzo might have shocked Vicky temporarily into niceness. We'll see how that progresses.

She will, but she also has Timmy-kun with her.

I won't say anything about the Timmy/Gary/Tootie love triangle because that would ruin the plot.

Thank you and we'll see about that story title as well. (winks)

**SoulPoet**:

I'm not saying that suicide is all right or that it's justified, but I do not believe that you should go so far as to condemn Timmy for it. He has his own problems and, after all he's been through, it's hardly fair to say that he's being a coward. There was no one for him to turn to and he thought that everything he touched turned to shit, literally.

As a matter of fact, if I were you, I'd watch who you called a coward. There are many here who have suffered suicidal thoughts, _including _the author.

**MisterBlue**- Yes, it _is _a cycle. But you would know, huh, Blue? (winks) Seeing as you know more about TOS than most of my fans.

Who? Lor or Cos? And yes, he enjoys his absence immensely.

Vicky, as I said before, is a bitch. Plain and simple.

**LgacyDX**- But the point is that they still don't trust each other…(stares at you)

**ahhelga**- Heh, you get a new chapter the day you review.

Cosmo isn't dead and Timmy isn't a bitch, he's a pussy. (smirks) Vicky's always scary, though.

Yes, your poor (not) Lory-kins.

Thank you and there was a part with Sophie in here just for you, seriously.


	7. Love Medicine

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Chapter Seven: Love Medicine

Now was the lunch of their discontent and, if their taut faces told her anything, it was this. None of them had wanted to meet, yet they made pretenses as though they enjoyed each other's company. Sophie in particular, sensing she was deadweight, loathed mealtime, and bore it through burying her nose in a book. In this instance, it was an ancient tome of magic that glowed softly in her petite hands. Faded ink adorned the pages and it carried the distinct odor of ages long past, its mustiness enthralling her nostrils. With books, she was finally in her solace and it _almost _didn't matter that no one cared about her. Almost.

All she'd wanted, all every child wanted, was to be loved. Since Juandissimo had inadvertently destroyed that, her childhood ebbed away. Days melted into weeks melted into months of loneliness, unbroken by even her fairy godmother. Wanda was the only creature she actually _knew _here and she'd made no real effort to turn this into her home. She understood she'd been dumped here, in the middle of an ongoing crisis situation, but still…was it too much to ask for to be treated like she mattered? Tears brimmed at the thought but she halted, stunned again.

Ever since she'd been introduced to Wanda, odd things appeared in her vision every once in a while. They weren't actually there, she knew, but they startled her just the same. She couldn't possibly know they were activated once she was around a fairy or a magical creature, nor was she tempted to ask. She just wanted them _gone_.

Around everyone, she spotted their relation lines, thin wavering tendrils connecting one person to another. Some were thicker than others, indicating strength of emotion regarding the other. However, thickness did not necessitate love- Gary and Timmy had almost as thick a bond as Cosmo and Wanda. In their case, it was because Timmy had sired Gary, not due to love (which she strongly suspected didn't exist between them, only blind hatred).

Sometimes, the lines could indicate stress and turmoil. Between Timmy and Tootie, a medium thick line wavered. The same worked for Cosmo and Wanda as far as she'd seen. Whenever one party tried to touch their mate, they'd jump back or refuse and the line would tremble as their emotions struggled to work themselves out. She'd heard of telepathy, but this went deeper than that. Telepathy forbade lying about emotions and truths, but it didn't show the strength of conviction like these lines did. Not that she really could say that factually, but she'd read it somewhere.

In her hands, the book glowed green brightly, reminding her of her magical nature. Somewhere along the line, there'd been a witch ancestor and, despite the blood line thinning out, she still had some powers. Seeing relationships was just one, but she was virtually oblivious to her true nature. After all, no one told her. All she understood was that she saw lines and on occasion, things levitated around her. Nothing really made much sense, though.

Before her sat an untouched plate with a grilled cheese sandwich, the plate splattered with a few tears. Briefly, she glanced up from her book to frown, noticing Wanda desperately stifle sobs. As far as she knew, the fairy had been crying on and off for hours, yet no one paid her any mind. She didn't have to ask why, though- the line connecting her and Cosmo was peculiarly frayed and black lingered on the edges. Intuitively, she sensed that he might be on the brink of death or something close- bereft of his soul, perhaps? Whatever the case, Wanda struggled to maintain her composure.

Shifting her glance, she caught Timmy gazing longingly at Tootie. Around his line were gloom, anger, and nearly overwhelming desire. Then again, it wasn't much of a surprise, considering how he behaved around Tootie. Personally, if he had any sense at all, she thought he ought to tell Tootie how he felt and get it over with. Forget whatever was holding him back, because it clearly wasn't doing either of them any good. Then again, she was but a child, what did she know?

Gary smirked back at her; he was complacent in raining doubt and dissension upon Tootie and Timmy's relationship. A shudder of revulsion swept her- she couldn't imagine why she'd harbored a crush on him to begin with. All he seemed to do was drive a wedge between his creator and his love, moreover, he enjoyed it. She didn't know whether he was hoping to pick up the pieces or just break Timmy's heart by sleeping with her, but in either case, she wanted nothing to do with him.

Shifting her attention, she spotted Tootie's line, speckled with pain, misery, death, and betrayal. The raven haired girl was the only creature here other than Wanda who she identified with. The only thing was that Sophie had a chance to escape the drudgery of Dimmsdale, yet Tootie clearly didn't. She was doomed to remain here, orphaned, until she was old enough to make her way.

Pitying her, she offered a weak smile she did not return. Instead, her eyes fell upon her half eaten peanut butter and jelly sandwich and she slumped in her chair. Suddenly, the link blurred for a moment, indicating Tootie suffered a tension headache. Then again, she hardly blamed her since there enough tension here to slice it with a knife. Anyone blissfully unaware of it had to be as stupid as Cosmo.

Recalling Cosmo, she glanced again at Wanda, shaking with suppressed sobs. From her vantage point, she noted tears occasionally splashing her plate and drink. Sophie knew she was thinking of Cosmo, probably wondering why she couldn't hold onto him for longer than a few months without losing him to jealousy. From the little she'd been apprised of their situation, they'd been married for thousands of years, yet had only renewed their zest for each other due to the stress around them. When either panicked, they grabbed the other.

Without him, she suffered, just as she had when they'd first met. Every once in a while, she would stop forcing substance down her throat long enough to glimpse at her godson and her goddaughter before staring down at her plate. If she were expecting sympathy from Timmy, Sophie thought she was sadly mistaken. From what she knew, Timmy didn't have an altruistic bone in his body. All he cared about was his own selfish gain, much like Gary.

Speaking of the bucktoothed boy with curly black hair, he was currently trying his luck at playing footsie with Tootie. As soon as his foot nudged hers, she kicked him so hard, he jumped up in surprise. When he rolled up his pants to rub his injury, Sophie suppressed a snicker at the black and blue mark forming rapidly. The girl could kick.

Timmy blinked, examining both parties. Tootie smiled innocently, like the cat that ate the canary. However, the smile did not extend to her eyes, projecting anguish. Sophie's heart went out to her, clearly struggling to maintain her cool just like Wanda. In her too was hidden power reserves, many clandestine things she preferred to examine under the sanctuary of darkness. However, in front of Timmy, none of these things showed.

Scoffing openly, he snapped, "What's the matter, sick of playing with your lover?"

Furious, Tootie slammed her palms down on the table so hard, plates jumped. The one in front of Sophie hopped a few inches in the air before resting again, sending her sandwich, still hot, onto the book. If she knew any curse words, she certainly would have, because it was staining the spell she needed to learn. But maybe if she moved it slightly…no! No…it was ruined…no…she was stuck here…

"He isn't my lover!" She fired back, standing up swiftly and striding over to his chair to dump him unceremoniously onto the floor. His plate, already on the edge, flipped over and landed on his head. Were Sophie anything short of enraged, she might have found this amusing.

"I saw you playing footsie with him! Don't lie!" Timmy snapped, rising and shoving her. Fire blazed in her eyes as she shoved him back. A fight brewed, but Sophie couldn't care less. As far as she was concerned, at this point, they could both burn in heck for screwing this up for her. How _dare _they drag her into their stupid fight!

"You can't stop yourself for one minute, can you? You're such a slut!" He snarled, all but breathing fire.

"_I'm _a slut? You have no idea what I've been through-" Tootie screeched, but, before she could add anything, Sophie interjected. She was thoroughly fed up with this whole darn house. They'd screwed her chance to be happy and now they were arguing stupid stuff like this! Who gave a hoot?

"_You_?" Sophie screamed, stunning herself by speaking up. Normally, she kept silent for days at a time. Still, enough was enough. Everyone had ignored her, well, fine, then, let them stew in what they'd caused. She was beyond caring.

"Thanks to both of you, I can't go home! At least there, people cared whether I live or die! And don't deny it! No one in this house talks to me- you all act like I'm invisible! I know I'm taking up your precious room by living here, but I'm an orphan too!

"I don't _care _about your stupid sexual whatever! As far as I'm concerned, you all can burn in hell, because I'm sick of each and everyone of you treating me like I'm worthless!"

Tears brimmed in her eyes and she mentally cursed herself for being weak enough to cry instead of remaining strong for the ending. This always happened when she got upset and she was picked on for it. Still, she had to finish before charging out of here. At least that she could manage without breaking down completely.

"I hate you all," Sophie snapped, and, as an afterthought, added, "Fuck you."

By now, she shook so badly, her teeth chattered. However, it didn't impede her as she strolled out of the kitchen, Tootie, Timmy, and Gary staring at her. Fine, let them stare. She meant every word she said.

"Sophie," Wanda called and, still stunned, all four of them turned to glance at her. Tears were streaming down the fairy's face, but she ignored them. Instead, her eyes were fixed upon her goddaughter and then, angrily, at her godson, his estranged girlfriend, and his creation. Sophie swallowed hard, completely forgetting Wanda in her fury.

"Timmy, Tootie, Gary, perhaps if _any _of you considered someone _outside _of your love triangle and noticed my goddaughter, maybe she wouldn't be so upset. I didn't bring her here to be ignored because my godson is an idiot and can't tell Tootie how he really feels," Wanda snapped coldly.

"Maybe if all you thought of someone else other than yourselves, you wouldn't be arguing day and night. I don't know, it's just an idea. And maybe if you asked _me _how I'm feeling once in a while instead of listening for a few seconds and then running around half cocked, I might be able to help you!"

Under his breath, Gary muttered, "Isn't that what Cosmo's for?"

Sophie could tell it was on the tip of her tongue to retort as icily and cruelly as she could, but Wanda lost it. The tears sliding down her cheeks became a flurry and she hugged herself, chest heaving with sobs. Just thinking about depending on Cosmo had become so painful, she couldn't stand it. The line connecting her and Cosmo fluctuated again wildly and Wanda froze, cocking her head to someone none of them but Sophie could quite perceive. Someone was here that shouldn't be.

"No…" She breathed as Timmy approached her. Tootie temporarily forgotten, he wrapped his arms around his godmother. The pink fairy trembled in his grasp.

Sophie, frozen herself and listening to Remy approaching Cosmo to acquire the rest of his soul, gazed meaningfully at Wanda. She'd pressed her face against Timmy's chest for a few moments before vanishing without another word.

"What just happened?" Timmy murmured, glancing from Tootie to Gary to, at long last, Sophie. Sophie flushed, unused to the attention. Besides, she couldn't honestly answer him if she expected him to believe her. Therefore, she merely walked out with a shrug.

* * *

Quite possibly, she was in the worst state possible to face Remy. Her whole body shook with unshed tears and, as she poofed immediately to Cosmo's side, she couldn't calm down. He was back for the rest, she could tell. Once he had all of Cosmo's soul, he was basically dead. Just the idea made her heart stop and the room spin.

The former human (no other title fit him) glowered at her; he'd been in the middle of casting a spell to rid Cosmo of the rest of his soul and give it to Eschcolex. His glorious demon had promised to dispose of his soul painfully and slowly, perhaps in front of this infernal fairy. Surely she could stop crying long enough to watch her husband be destroyed. Still, distantly, he knew his death would be meaningless for everyone except Wanda, holding Cosmo as though he might smite him down the spot. Eschcolex wouldn't care after the original act, but Wanda would die spiritually. If he had a soul, he might have considered it.

"Hand him over," Remy snapped coldly, striding up to the two and attempting to pry him out of her arms. However, nothing short of breaking her arms would extract him. Even though Cosmo was cold to the touch, he wasn't quite dead. In a few hours, unless she performed a spell to protect him, he'd be dead anyway. Pity.

Staunching her tears, she snapped, "You'll have to pry him from my old, dead hands because you'll get him over my dead body."

Lorenzo DeMedici would have told her that it could be arranged, Juandissimo Magnifico would have afflicted her with mind numbing pain, but Remy merely gazed at her plainly. Both of the two aforementioned reacted to her on an emotional level, one he couldn't muster. Killing her wouldn't help his case and her soul was not worth anything to him. Sure, it'd eradicate the problem of her coming after him, but it really didn't matter either way. Her life was trivial compared to Cosmo's.

"He'll die no matter _what _you do," Remy spat, yet his words were hollow. Their threat struck home, however, for she visibly flinched. Within him, no remnants of life clung, thus he could not relish her fear. Of course, he recognized it written all over her face and the way her fingers hurriedly stroked his clammy face. Such love, it would have disgusted him if he were alive to observe it.

Her pink eyes scoured his face; she sought any indication that this wasn't happening, that Remy was lying. Even as she did, even as she sent messages to him and probing his mind room, she found nothing. The light was on, but no one was home. In some ways, this pained her more than his actual dying because she was powerless to stop it. Or was she? Although that page had been destroyed in Sophie's book, the rest might help her. She just had to borrow it…after she had a long talk with that child and reassured that, regardless of Tootie, Timmy, and Gary, she at least cared about her.

"He won't," She spoke finally, confidently, raising her head while her fingers stroked Cosmo's cheeks and hair. Now more than ever, she wished she'd gotten over Juandissimo's treatment sooner and could share more time with Cosmo. For once, the past didn't loom over her like a scythe dangling over her neck. She couldn't comprehend her attitude hours before Cosmo's loss, much less before…

"Yes, he will." Remy stated dourly, confident yet his confidence was not borne from the same means as her. Cosmo would have to provide him his soul because if he did not, then he would further fail Eschcolex and he would destroy his vessel (the last thing left him). Life was empty anyway, but he clung to it obstinately. Besides, stealing Cosmo's soul could perhaps return him to life…not that he'd ever want it. When he'd been alive, he'd hated him.

In a state akin to empty frustration, he tore Cosmo's right wing out; leaving him bereft of wings, and trampled upon it soundly before vanishing just as swiftly as he'd arrived. Eschcolex would not like this development…he only hoped he could overlook it until he delivered Cosmo's soul in its entirety. _In due time, master, in due time…_

* * *

Breathing deeply and suppressing another shudder, she ran her hands over Cosmo's now bare back. How could it be that just last night, he'd made love to her? It felt so long ago, as though it belonged to another lifetime. He couldn't have glanced at her longingly and kissed her deeply while his hands roamed her body…

Not to mention the event preceding it, which, with another shudder, she wished she could forget. Timmy appeared to have bounced back from it remarkably, but she sensed it cut into his relationship with Tootie. His self worth was at an all time low; if he couldn't value himself, how could he value his girlfriend? Subconsciously, he might desire to shove her away just in case he really did succeed.

Gnawing on her lip (but without piercing the skin), she finally released Cosmo and hugged herself. The argument over lunch had really been the straw to break the camel's back- returning to find herself unable to love Cosmo, then discovering her godson was suicidal…and actually attempting to take his life right under her nose. If she'd felt the disturbing mental tug a minute later, she might have been too late. Then she'd never be able to live with herself. Jorgen had always told them that they were quite possibly the worst godparents around, but allowing him to kill himself under her charge would cinch it. Not to mention the guilt would be unbearable.

In an attempt to mollify her own turbulent emotions, she'd striven to pacify Timmy and Sophie, but actually hadn't done anything at all. If she'd been there more for them than for herself, she might have noticed the truth. Instead, she'd been neglectful and she was paying the price now. If she hadn't pretended Cosmo was the only thing important in her life, then they wouldn't have started arguing…she should have worked things out beforehand…

Rubbing her temples, wincing again at the sight of Cosmo, she waved her wand to place him in a stasis field until she could figure out where to go from there. She wished she didn't have to leave him, but she didn't have a choice. At least here, the only creature that could break the seal was one that knew her magical signature intimately, in other words, Cosmo and the now deceased Juandissimo. For the moment, he was safe from Remy, provided Eschcolex hadn't figured out a way to break stasis fields. However, she couldn't worry about that right now. She had to worry about what had transpired when she'd selfishly plunged herself into her godchildren's affairs.

* * *

Sophie stared numbly at the blue wallpaper; it reminded her that this wasn't her house- it wasn't even her choice in colors. Wanda had graciously permitted her a place to stay, but this house was not a home. To pretend it was converted her into the liars that inhabited it. Yes, they were all liars, afraid to betray their secrets, whatever they were. All she had was contempt for each and everyone of them.

A pink poof entered the room but she ignored it. Sitting on the blue-green carpeting, she instead continued to stare blankly at the wall before her. Whenever she contemplated her loathing for the humans, she always figured Wanda out of the equation. Her appearance now summoned the thought that she'd forgotten the only creature she could abide, the reason she was here in the first place. Despite that, she couldn't bring herself to dislike the poor pink fairy. She underwent dreadful stress without adding to it.

Gently, sitting beside her, Wanda murmured, "I thought you _wanted_ attention, sweetie."

"Timmy and Tootie need you more," Sophie responded dully, blinking when she placed her hand atop hers and squeezed it. Despite her own sorrow, she was extending herself to her? Why was she being so nice? What had she done to deserve it?

"I think they can wait," She replied, smiling weakly and repositioning herself in her lap. Sophie was so stunned, she nearly jumped. On the off chance she'd seen her with Timmy; she behaved much looser, like she was now. Why was she acting like, well, not her mother but someone close to her? Someone who…loved her?

"We need to talk, honey." Turning around, she fixed her goddaughter a look Sophie found impossible to tear her eyes away from. Her pink eyes bored into her brown ones- maybe this was she'd done to Timmy whenever he'd been rowdy and out of hand. Then again, with the little she knew of him, she sincerely doubted he spent a lot of time listening to her.

"I…I'm sorry, Wanda…" She whispered, noticing the red rims around her eyes. Delicately, tentatively, she brushed away the dampness remaining. They were roughly around the same size, so it was like having a friend (if she'd any) on her lap. As she was nervous, expecting punishment for her outburst, no enthusiasm struck her at the thought.

Continuing to smile weakly, she shook her head at her. Sophie stared, watching the golden orbs in her earlobes shift back and forth. Idly, the memory of her mother's earrings, resembling hers, arose and she bit back tears. She didn't want to make things more difficult than she already had for the poor pink fairy. Honestly, she didn't want to burden her.

"We'll worry about your obscenities later, Sophie." Under her breath, Wanda added, "and then I'll have a talk with Timmy and Tootie about arguing and cursing outside my nine year old goddaughter's room.

"I know you aren't happy-" She started, her pink eyes shimmering with compassion. Around her, she felt ashamed for her outburst. _Someone _cared about her, even if she didn't show it all the time. Wanda, she hesitated to say 'loved', concerned herself with her.

"But you have to make the best out of a horrendous situation. My godson can be a moron occasionally (okay, all the time) and he doesn't notice you because his hormones dictate his actions. All he's thinking about right now is how to get with Tootie-"

"You mean how to get into her pants," Sophie completed dully, causing Wanda to blink furiously. Apparently, this was something that she hadn't intended to let her know, judging by the shock registering and then anger.

"Timmy…" Wanda growled, recognizing the culprit immediately. _I try to keep my younger godchildren sheltered from that kind of language and implications and here he goes, arguing with Tootie in front of **her **door about it. I just hope she doesn't know what it means and she's merely spouting echoes of their disagreements._

"Yeah, him," Sophie muttered, scowling despite herself. Unless he went out of his way to acknowledge her now, she couldn't care less what happened with him and his 'girlfriend'. Sure, Timmy was Wanda's other godchild, but that didn't mean any other ties bound them together. She only knew him through her.

Speaking of ties, a faint cord connected her and her godmother. Blinking, surprised since she normally didn't see any cords coming from herself, she focused on it. It quite possibly was the weakest link she'd seen, but it was stronger from Wanda's end. Wanda was trying to bring them closer than the bond might allow- it might snap.

If she stretched her hand out, she could touch it, only it wasn't really there. But if it wasn't there, why did it glow so brightly? And why did the ties fluctuate if she were imagining them? One would think she'd imagine them constant so she could pretend everyone had the same relationship.

"What do you see?" She asked, jarring her out of her reflections. Great, so she was seeing things in front of Wanda. Maybe she was going nuts…at least it would get her out of here._ Yes, doc, I see fairies and lines connecting people- put me in the asylum asap!_

The words sliding out of her mouth before her brain could stop them, she answered truthfully. Perhaps it was a combination of being tired of seeing the lines every time and thinking she might be losing it or just sheer guilt for seeing them in front of her that made her answer, she didn't know. Whatever the case, as soon as the words escaped her, she wished she could take them back. She honestly preferred debating her magic away.

"I…I see ties connecting people…not just in this house…everywhere…they're like lifelines…and how people react to each other and their convictions in their relationships…"

_I bet that doesn't make the slightest bit of sense. She'll tell me that I'm losing it and send me off to wherever Tootie goes all the time…On Christmas, I'll get postcards…_

Instead of saying what Sophie dreaded, she caressed her cheek lovingly and smiled broadly at her goddaughter. Flushed, she managed to meet her gaze and nothing more. She couldn't fathom her reaction for the life of her. What was so good about seeing things that no one else could see? According something she'd read, "Hearing/seeing things no one else can is never a good sign, not even in the magical world."

"No wonder that book glowed in your hands," Wanda replied, grinning. "You have magic, honey!"

"_What_?" Sophie choked, eyes flickering between her and another line extending from her, to the arguing outside. One line was stronger than the two others; the first one she guessed had to be Timmy. Grand, just like him to interrupt her time with her. Why on earth did he have to argue so much?

Scowling, she waved her wand idly in their direction and stole their voices. At least, this was what Sophie presumed she did, because the argument died. Silence reigned, blissful silence, good enough for both of them to think. The only thing was she wished she'd remembered to ask Wanda to do that instead of doing it out of sheer irritation.

Beaming at her, she proceeded to tell exactly the nature of her gift and where, in all likelihood, it had come from. Although the actual explanation and demonstration of what her powers could do took over an hour because Sophie kept asking her to repeat herself (a giddy thrill coursed through her), it was probably the longest conversation they'd ever had. Not only did someone care for her, she _understood _her. By the time she was done, she felt lightheaded.

However, Wanda was not finished with her. While explaining her powers had been enjoyable, there was still the matter of her outburst and the vulgarity within. Neither of them had forgotten, yet Sophie had rather hoped she might have. Then again, Wanda had not been a godmother for thousands of years for nothing. Life was not all fun and games.

Sighing, she proceeded to lecture her on the importance of using clean vocabulary and how, even if she didn't believe anyone else cared, _she _did. At the moment, until Wanda could think of something better, she was her mother. Although her affection might not extend deeply the way it did with Timmy, she loved her like she loved all her godchildren. Ruffling her hair, she told her she hoped she remembered that.

Wanda hugged her tightly and Sophie could see how she'd shoved her own troubles to the side for her. It only induced more guilt and she finally tore her eyes away, ashamed. Poor Wanda…

"If you need someone to talk to, _call me_," She advised, stroking her hair. With that, she vanished to sort out her rogue godson. At least without the power of speech, he wouldn't be nearly as troublesome.**

* * *

**

She found Timmy sitting on Tootie's bed and watching her, sitting on one leg and swinging it back and forth. Fortunately, through dark magic, she'd learned how to control her entrances to the point where she was virtually silent and neither noticed. Unnoticed, she could study their reactions and then decide where to go from there. It was a useful skill, although she wished she hadn't attained it at such a great price. Losing some of her lightness and the agony of losing Cosmo (now twice) wasn't worth it.

However, she'd underestimated her entrance for when she started to scrutinize Timmy, he turned in her direction. Tootie too shifted and, instead of the previous frustration, resentment, and anger, she gazed pityingly at her. In fact, her expression was mirrored on her godson's face and Wanda flushed, shifting her gaze elsewhere. She'd gone back to her position as the rock, not someone gathering sympathy. If she didn't shove herself into their affairs, she might never forget Cosmo was soulless and possibly about to die…Damn, she'd started to think about it again.

Waving her wand once, she restored the power of speech if only so she wouldn't be talking to herself. However, as soon as they started protesting again, they'd lose that ability. All either did was argue lately and she had to put a stop to it. After all, it disrupted the whole house (with the exception of Vicky) and she, the only creature in this house with sense, had to put a stop to it. The reason Sophie had become despondent was because they were too focused on each other and misreading the signals to pay her any mind. Loath though she was to admit it, she couldn't be everywhere at the same time. _That's what Cosmo's for…_

Tears threatened to spill again, but fortunately, her head was still turned and neither could see her façade shattering. If she could gather herself together for just a little while longer, then she could escape and deal with this in private. There was no need to involve anyone else in the house because it wasn't _their _problem. Despite the therapeutic effects of sobbing on someone's shoulder, she knew in her heart of hearts that the only chance of that was if she completely lost control. And in all her years, she'd never completely lost it…except for today. Reminding herself brought a large lump to her throat and she swallowed hard, forcing it down and shifting in mid air, albeit like a robot, to gaze at them.

This time, no smile, however weak, adorned her face. Sophie might have unintentionally cursed, but they were the true culprits. Not to mention she had a twinge of jealousy over the fact that if they got their act together, they could _be _together and she and Cosmo couldn't. Nonetheless, she shoved that concept aside and, with great difficulty, composed a stoic face. Once again, she assumed the responsibilities of the rock. The rock couldn't crack (even if she herself was starting to).

"Wanda…" Timmy breathed and she flinched, realizing he thought she'd come here to talk about _her_. It'd been bad enough that she'd cried into Lorenzo's chest for a good ten minutes (before he made a game out of turning her on); she couldn't afford a repeat performance. No matter how close she might be, releasing her anxiety, confusion, and misery was not an option. For as long as she could be, she was the fairy godmother to relieve everyone of their deepest, darkest fears and pains- not the one telling others of hers.

"I need to talk to you two," She said firmly, not meeting either of their eyes. She had the distinct impression looking them in the face might lead to her divulging more than she should. In retrospect, it'd been bad enough that she'd told Timmy what happened with Cosmo (and perhaps Lorenzo as well, heaven knew he'd use it against her)- she didn't need to tell Tootie as well. She wasn't looking for pity, though a small voice whispered in her head, it might be nice.

"About Cosmo?" Tootie finished and, again, Wanda flinched. Just like she'd suspected, they thought she was here to crash. No, she'd crash and burn on her own terms, not with her unruly godson and his estranged lover. (At the rate she was going, she might sincerely crash _and _burn…)

Unfortunately, both saw her flinch and Timmy reached out to her. Wanda floated away, suppressing a shudder. Doing this would be exponentially easier if she weren't touched. That way, she could sort out her feelings and, as she repeated to herself, keep them separate. There was no need to involve either of them.

"About the fact that Tootie arrived home today and you two can't stop fighting for one minute!" Wanda snapped, her accusation coming out substantially harsher than she'd intended. When she was on the defensive, she found herself treating people's peccadilloes more severely than normal. It shifted the focus off her.

"Well, maybe if she actually told me where she was instead of lying to my face, I wouldn't be arguing with her!" Timmy snapped, glowering at her, folding her arms across her chest and glowering back.

"Well, maybe if I _could _tell you (and I hadn't wasted my opportunity on Vicky), I would! Maybe if you took my word on it instead of senselessly blaming me for everything under the sun-" Tootie retorted, rising to her feet.

"Maybe if you two stopped arguing for ten _seconds _you might be able to listen what the other person was saying instead of making up your mind before hearing all the evidence!" Wanda interjected and the two, already in a face-off, halted.

Breathing deeply, she positioned herself, floating, between them. Juvenile though the exercise might be, she had no choice in the matter. There was simply no way to prevent them from arguing unless she forced one to be silent in the stead of another. Besides, perhaps it would convince them to use telepathy to speak, therefore ensuring they wouldn't be able to lie. She'd never had a godchild with telepathy before, so it was just a theory at the moment.

Waving her wand, she indicated while one person remained mute, the other could speak freely. Therefore, no arguments- she felt like a judge. Maybe if they really irritated her, she could throw them out in contempt of court. Of course, she wouldn't be as narrow minded as Jorgen, but at the rate they were going, she might find herself as short tempered.

"Timmy," She muttered, already regretting giving him speaking privileges, "You start.

"And before you do, let me lay down some ground rules. Tootie can't speak on her behalf at the moment (she'll have a chance to later), but that doesn't mean you have the right to accuse her of everything under the sun while she can't defend herself. I want you to say what you _believe _she's done and then back it up with fact. (In other words, don't argue the Republican way and say you're right because you are and leave it at that).

"Tootie, the same goes for you. Until you two can prove to me that you can handle civilized conversation, I don't want you speaking at the same time. Are we clear?"

Both nodded, Tootie a tad angrily. Even without hearing it, she sensed their quibble continuing into telepathy. Well, it'd been a good idea while it lasted, but at least their disagreement wasn't audible. The last thing she needed was Sophie to pick up more curses and phrases she didn't quite understand. They were hardly being the greatest role models.

Clearing his throat like he was about to deliver the greatest speech to all mankind, Timmy launched into his charade. His brilliant blue eyes narrowed to slits and in his lap, his fists pounded his thighs with every punctuation. Wanda winced, wishing he wouldn't do that. Ultimately, such actions were rather painful- she ought to know.

"She's been gone for months and every time she comes back, she won't tell me where she is. I think she's been sleeping around and-" He began hotly and, the instant he accused her, Tootie mouthed wordlessly at him, no doubt firing rapidly her retort. Well, they were off to a grand start.

Drawing back, her hair briefly converting to flames, Wanda hissed, "Do you have any _proof_?"

Here he faltered. "Technically, no…but I keep feeling like she's betrayed me in another world."

Distantly, she caught Tootie screeching at him, ((That isn't true!))

"Have you considered the idea that maybe your feelings are wrong?" She replied, noticing Tootie's agitation. With or without the outward ability to speak, she still might tear him to shreds. She'd better remove the telepathy as well…since it wasn't doing them any good at the moment anyway. Maybe she'd sit them down in Tootie's mind room and have a better discussion without the false pretenses.

"I _know _I'm right," He replied obstinately, finding no factual evidence to support his claim. Sighing heavily, she quickly removed the ability of telepathy and speech from him. This was going nowhere fast.

"Tootie…" Wanda murmured, shutting her eyes and bidding her sudden exhaustion to fade away. Indicative, despite her compulsion to hide it, her wings fluttered languidly and she felt lethargic. Grand, if her wings were fluttering, that meant she might have difficulty remaining aloft. Normally, with fairies, this wasn't a problem, but since she'd gained weight from dark magic, she might plummet. An unpleasant shudder rocked her at the thought.

"I can't _tell _you where I've been," Tootie exploded, pounding her fists on her thighs. Of course, the instant she did, Timmy's eyes flew there and started imagining what resided beneath her skirt. Hormone driven thirteen year olds, there really was nothing like it. She had the feeling if he weren't plagued by doubts to her whereabouts, he might have had sex with her already. Tootie was certainly willing.

Wordlessly, Timmy mouthed an objection, but since he possessed no voice, neither heard it. Well, there was one advantage to having magic- the ability to shut people up on whim. After everything she'd heard from Timmy lately, she was eternally grateful for being a fairy. It might actually soothe Tootie's nerves to continue unabated, too. And anything that soothed her, soothed Wanda because it was one less problem to deal with.

"Jorgen forbade me," She continued, eyes ablaze. Guessing from her flashing purple eyes, the source of her fury was no longer Timmy but the muscular head of Fairy World. Then again, she hardly blamed her, considering many fairies loathed the sound of his name, much less him in person.

_And if I **did **tell you, which I can't now because fucking Vicky screwed up my chances, I'll be cast into the worst possible world Jorgen can find for me and spend the rest of my life solving other people's problems and never returning here. I don't think I'd be able to bear it if I could never see you again…_Tootie thought, eyes welling up at the thought. Despite their frequent arguments and sometimes physical altercations, she'd go mad without him. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure that out.

Tootie's eyes sought Wanda's, perhaps hoping the small pink fairy would believe her. Wanda did, if only because she knew Jorgen very well. She was willing to bet there were some steep consequences if she didn't abide strictly by his decrees, too. After all, the only way to back up a threat was with a bigger one. If anything, Jorgen was the world's largest bully.

Hanging her head, she muttered, "I wish I could tell you, Timmy…I really do. I can't afford break the rules again."

Again? When had she broken them before? Was that why she was home now, because Jorgen had cast her out of whatever her charge had been? When she could get her alone, she'd query her and see if she came up with anything she could tell Timmy. Then again, she sincerely questioned whether or not her godchild would believe her. He hadn't believe Cosmo when he'd told him he loved him…

"I…I didn't betray you, if that's what you're thinking. I was stuck in a bad situation and I was so desperate, I made it worse. I never intended to hurt you…" She trailed off, biting her lip thoughtfully. _I only have one way to end that sentence, but if I do, you might still reject me. Nothing I say ever makes any different to you, does it? I try and I try, but do you really care? Or…maybe it's that you really want to die and you don't want me to worry…_

In a low voice, barely audible, she finished, "I love you, Timmy Turner…"

Sighing, she waved her wand once more, granting Timmy the power of speech in both mediums. Maybe now, he'd be hesitant to start arguing with her, she hoped. Whatever the case, she planned to visit Vicky before attending to Cosmo. In her absence, she prayed he'd be all right. Besides the stasis field, nothing else shielded him from the elements…or demons.

"I…I love you too, Toot." He murmured, sheepish. Heat spread across his cheeks and, turning her head, ensuring she wouldn't see what followed, Wanda fled rather than left the room. Tootie had Timmy, Vicky had Mark- where did that leave her? With Lorenzo? Heaven help them all.

* * *

When she poofed in, immediately she stopped a flying vase, aimed at Mark's face, from smashing into pieces and unpleasantly carving up his cheeks. The reaction between her spell and the vase created a mini time lapse, where the object within remained sustained in mid-air until she gently lowered it to a nearby table. Already, she regretted her decision to arrive here- Vicky was going to need as much help as she could give and then some. First things first, though, she had to coerce her out of her violent mood and act sedate, if that were at all possible.

"Get out of my way!" Vicky screeched, blazing with anger. Another antique trembled in her grasp, but Wanda waved her wand and the hand clutching it as well as the rest of the body attached froze, paralyzed for the duration of her stay. The only way to prevent total disaster was to prevent her from moving, then so be it. Dodging airborne trajectories was not among one of her favorite things to do.

"We need to talk," She replied calmly, practiced in dealings with irate pregnant teens. Before their eventual removal, one of their godchildren found herself with child and spent the duration of their last few months together ranting and raving at Wanda, unable to grant her wishes to abort or otherwise prevent the child's birth. According to Da Rules, abortion and wishing away a child was murder and she found it morally and personally wrong. Of course, her godchild hadn't quite seen eye to eye with her on that.

"About _what_?" Vicky spat, flopping listlessly onto the couch thanks to another spell. Only her eyes remained defiant, glowering at this intrusion.

"I know you think your situation is supremely unfair and the worst possible circumstance, but having a child can be a wonderful thing. You can influence another person and mold them, watch them grow. It's really a miracle-" Wanda began, wishing she believed half of what she said. Unlike conventional fairies, other than godchildren, she'd never had a child.

"What would _you _know about it?" Vicky fired back, insolent. Mark, hanging towards the emergency exit, opted against it and sat at the opposite end of the couch. If Wanda needed backup, he'd provide it.

"I…I wouldn't know personally…" What was with uncomfortable topic changes lately? Was it probe Wanda to the point where she wants to flee day? She hugged herself, lamenting her decision more and more.

"Why _not_? What's the matter, too busy with godchildren to have a kid? I doubt that."

If Mark noticed the color drain from her face, he gave no indication. Then again, he probably couldn't figure what Vicky was getting at. She ought to change the subject before the memories started flooding back.

"As I was saying," Wanda interrupted, her voice coming out higher pitched than normal, more like a squeak. Slowly, she found her calm ebbing away at a distressing rate. Perhaps she ought to think of a good exit line and disappear before she admitted something she'd never told anyone else other than the doctors.

"Children can be a gift-"

"You can't have kids, can you?" A malicious glint surfaced in Vicky's eyes and Wanda cringed, hoping that if she had any compassion in her body, she'd let the subject drop tastefully. Then again, this _was _Vicky she dealt with and exploiting weakness was what she lived for, when she wasn't throwing up due to morning sickness. Besides, with all these mood swings, this was how she got her kicks.

Ignoring the intimation, Wanda continued. "Sometimes, they hold together a marriage or simply add to it-"

"Why not? Not good enough? I bet almost all female fairies can have kids," Vicky snickered, causing Wanda to tremble and fall out of mid-air onto the floor. She took it back- there _was_ no kind bone in the girl's body.

"Vicky," Mark said warningly, noticing how badly Wanda reacted. "Maybe this isn't the best conversation to be having."

"You're a freak, you know that?" She continued, continuing to snicker. "A freak of nature."

"I didn't say anything to _you,_" Wanda said hotly, hugging her arms to her chest. Unsteadily, she rose to her feet, but her wings refused to cooperate. It seemed the only way she was going to float was if she cast a levitation spell. For the most part, her wings fluttered uselessly and obstinately denied her the gift of floating.

"I never snapped at _you _for having unprotected sex and not thinking of the consequences. I left you alone!" _It wasn't my place to start up with you and it certainly isn't your place to start up with me. Just because I'm not physically capable of carrying a child full term doesn't mean you have the right to treat me like I'm inferior. _

"At least I had the possibility of getting pregnant! What's the matter, you were defective? Maybe Cosmo should have returned you-" However, she never received the opportunity to complete her sentence because both Mark and Wanda were up in arms. For the first time in her life, she sincerely yearned to punch her in the face. How _dare her_!

"Shut up!" She roared, finally levitating but turning black again. Fortunately, she only flickered black before returning to her normal pink, but the surge of dark magic that coursed through her veins sent delightful, excruciating punishments of how she could deal with her. Holding her temper soon became the most difficult thing in her life.

"Vicky!" Mark snapped at the same instant. She hissed at him, but whatever else she had to say in her offense, she never managed because Wanda started in on her. Suppressing your emotions can have some rather nasty aftereffects, but, in retrospect, for all the trouble she caused everyone, she didn't feel the slightest bit sympathetic or remorseful.

"I'm not capable of carrying a child without a miscarriage. Cosmo and I tried and every time, about five times, I lost the baby. You have _no _idea how painful that is. You're complaining that you didn't want to get pregnant, yet the people that truly _want _kids and can't have them don't pity you. I certainly don't. You got yourself into this mess.

"I know, you're afraid of being a mother, but you won't know until you _try_. You're giving up already and acting like such a coward, it's unbearable. Instead of facing your fear, you're striking out at everyone and everything around you. Let me speak for Sophie, Timmy, and Tootie for a moment- _we don't appreciate it_. Stop acting like a selfish brat and _grow up_. You're always acting as though you rule the house, maybe it's time you took charge of yourself."

Glowering at her, trembling badly, Wanda vanished from the basement, leaving Vicky to stare blankly, still unable to move because she hadn't relieved the spell.

**

* * *

**

He'd the good fortune to find Cosmo unguarded. Well, aside from the pitiful stasis field he quickly disposed of, that was. If his protégé couldn't eradicate one pathetic fairy, then it fell to him. He honestly failed to see the difficulty, especially considering the green boob couldn't defend himself. Then again, in his lifetime, Remy possessed little to no common sense and he assumed intellect followed suit.

However, he suppressed a smirk at the wingless Cosmo. Apparently, despite no emotions, he'd still ripped out his wings. If only he could have been there to relish Wanda's expression, but that was for another day. For now, he had his prey and he just had to acquire the last bit of his soul to make it complete. Just a little more...he thirsted for his soul (beggars couldn't be choosers).

Unsheathing one long, bony finger, he stroked the walls of the field and Cosmo tumbled to the bed. Foolish fairies really thought their protection was sufficient- if only he had the time to prove them wrong. He could snap his neck right in front her and then feast upon his soul as she watched, helpless. Well, he could do all that, but he didn't have the time and besides, he'd done that trick before. There had to be another, more malicious one.

The same bony finger caressed Cosmo's scalp, hoping to locate the sliver Remy had missed. Before he could find it, Wanda entered the tree house, her wand held out in front of her. He could honestly say he hadn't killed a fairy in cold blood in a while. Perhaps that would provide him some entertainment.

"Stay _away _from my husband," She hissed, poofing to his side immediately and casting a shield around the two of them.

Cold, mirthless laughter filled the room and she clutched Cosmo to her as tightly as possible. How he enjoyed the torment of innocent fairies, but, once again, he must make haste. Since she was so desperate to fight him and he was in an amiable mood, he thought he'd strike a deal. Mind you, one should never make a compact with a demon, but since she appeared desperate, he doubted she'd take that into consideration.

"I'll make you a deal, _frach_," Eschcolex snapped, spitting out the derogative like poison. "Since you seem so keen on keeping your precious husband, I'll give you three months (I'm a very patient demon, you see) to acquire the rest of his soul. If you cannot restore him in that time, I feast upon his…and yours.

"If you _do _restore his soul, I will focus on other, worthier meals. Do we have a deal?"

Wanda paled and he saw her turning this over in her mind. Fortunately, it didn't take her long to arrive to a conclusion. From repute, he'd heard she was the smart one anyway. Not that it mattered to him, but perhaps that meant her soul would taste all the sweeter.

"Yes."

"Excellent." Throwing a contract at her as her signature appeared on the dotted line, he vanished.

_In three months, I'll feast upon your souls whether or not you rescue him…_

* * *

**Let me say one thing before I start replying to reviews- computers and my portable hard drive don't appear to like this story. I lost the first three pages of this chapter and then the last four and I had to rewrite them.**

**And while I'm listening to music, if you want good mood pieces, try "Even in Death" by Evanescence, "I'm Not Okay (I Promise)" by My Chemical Romance, **

**Yeah Loi**- Heh, from a quick update to a really slow one…but that's the way the cookie crumbles. At least this chapter was fairly long.

**Dark Fairy**- Heh, thanks. Unfortunately, he went right back to being selfish…

**SoulPoet**- Well said. I kind of forget my original reaction to your review because it's been so long, but yeah, well said.

Now the problem is that Wanda is conflicted and doesn't want to reveal how miserable she is.

**MisterBlue**- Well, of course she's a 'helluva' woman. Who else would I crush on this badly? There's also the matter of her being a fae…

Of course he is- he relishes the idea. Part of the whole reason he wants Tootie is to punish Timmy.

And Wanda cares! (feels like brandishing a flag and waving it) That poor girl…

**KIDEVIL1**- Hun, who said that he was going to lose Wanda even if he isn't conscious to save her? Wanda isn't the type to start cheating just because Cosmo's out of action. Lorenzo's affections will remain unreturned, I assure you.

And Lor isn't gay…I never said he was. Perhaps you've forgotten he had a thing for Vicky?

Yes, Lorenzo is bisexual, much like the author. (winks)

**Ahhelga**- I didn't realize how many people liked Sophie…heh.

Yes, I know your dislike for him in this story and your long time in reviewing was nothing on my long delay on updating. Oy.

**Trixie21**- Let me preface this by saying I was on cloud nine when I received your review. Then again, you know all about that because I sent you an e-mail like five minutes after I received it. Therefore, there's no need to repeat myself.

Thankies…

**I'm working on a complete list of songs that would work well with this story...e-mail me for the list. I'll send it to you when it's done.  
**


	8. Unpleasant Discoveries

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Chapter Eight: Unpleasant Discovery

It was the best of times; it was the worst of times. Smiling bitterly, Wanda reflected their situation mostly closely resembled the latter. Given the three situations she'd to diffuse plus her own, she honestly could locate no silver lining. Before her loomed clouds, thundering ominously and threatening to drown her. However, as long as she maintained coolness and tried to shove her personal feelings to the back burner, she thought she'd be all right. She'd done this before; she could do it again. Emotions only bogged her down.

However, the problem was that the idea was great, but it only appeared to work in theory. For no matter how much she declared her independence from her sorrow, she had yet to leave the treehouse. Instead, her fingers stroked Cosmo's cold, clammy face and he lay in her lap. Every once in a while, he would choke, seeking the soul evading him, then she'd feel a mental tug, like his heart strained to beat. In that instant, her own heart would halt for a moment. He couldn't leave her…he wouldn't dare…

How long had she remained here to placate herself with lies? In the end, did time really matter? She might have been here minutes, hours, or days. All she recalled was stroking his hair and face and occasionally kissing his cheeks. Nothing brought him back nor gave her comfort, yet she continued. She really couldn't think of anything else for she had no idea how to restore him.

Outside, the sun clung tentatively to the lingering moments of daylight and pink, red, and orange streaked across the sky. If Wanda had glanced up, she might have enjoyed the view and thought, for a split second, of anything other than her predicament. But her body and mind were mired in the past and everything that had happened to them. Could they receive no respite? Already, she ached for a sleep as deep as Cosmo's where they could finally be together, but the possibility was remote. Besides, she was _needed_ and for that duration, nothing else could be considered.

For a split second, she swore she heard Cosmo whimper and she sat up straighter, clutching him tighter. However, when she scanned their bond, nothing arose. It hadn't been him, but if it wasn't him, then who on earth could it have been? Was someone spying on them?

"You came to all of us because you thought we needed you, but now I think you need us more," Timmy called, standing on a rung. His cerulean eyes took in her fingers, which she had to force to stop stroking Cosmo's locks, and then, (she noted guilty) the clock, at least five hours past the time she'd come in. She _had _spent hours stroking his face.

Weakly, ignoring her longing for him, she forced herself to turn in his direction and gaze defiantly back. Behind her back, she gripped her wand between trembling fingers and wished for strength. If she figured out a way to trick him or steer the conversation away, she might get enough time to sneak away. She just had to play her cards right.

"How are you and Tootie?" she replied evenly, levitating above the bed when she discovered her hands possessed minds of their own and snaked forward. She couldn't help it- seeing him like this made her think, if only subconsciously, he might be dead or die soon.

Striding purposefully into their room, his piercing stare told her difficulty lay ahead if she tried to connive her way out. While Timmy indeed had a short attention span, he'd come here to discuss _her_; his attentiveness conflicted him in the past, but she was now technically his mother. Hence, when he worried about her, he worried _a lot_. And, with a guilt pang, she realized her actions in the past few hours might merit it. No stable creature would spend hours caressing their comatose spouse's hair and whispering to him (and dully, she recalled that too).

No, she told herself sternly, she wasn't unhinged. She was just a little stressed out, all things considered. It was nothing for Timmy to be alarmed about and if it were, she could handle it. He had other people to be concerned with.

"How are you and Cosmo?" he shot back, sitting on her bed and examining his godfather. Her heartbeat quickened and, without thinking, she descended to hover, wand out, protectively over him.

Stunned, Timmy stared at her and gently pushed her wand arm down. Silence passed while she registered what she'd pointed at him and he registered that if he didn't speak up, she might blast him, regardless of the fact he was her godson. Worry shimmered in his eyes- she might have shared her feelings with him but that felt so long ago and it clearly hadn't helped as much as he'd hoped. Particularly if she'd just spent five hours pretending he merely had a fever in their treehouse.

"I-I'm sorry," she stammered, dropping her weapon quickly and glancing furtively around for solace. Everything exposed her to the elements and Timmy himself felt the most formidable. When it came to talking about herself and sensations deeper than superficial ones, she usually found herself at a loss for words. His sympathetic glance caused heat to spread across her cheeks speedily. He cared…and she had to get out of here. Suddenly, the room was entirely too confining and she too agitated.

"You were threatening me…" Timmy whispered, half to himself. Swallowing hard, she cast the bedspread an anxious look. At least it wasn't querying her and it didn't balk at having a wand pointed at its chest. She hadn't meant to intimidate him, honestly…

"You came at a bad time," she explained weakly, steeling herself for a quick exit. If she had to abandon her wand and resort to dark magic, she would. Right now, solace could be found in the dark arts. Darkness soothed the soul.

Tentatively, he reached out to cradle her and she cringed. In many ways, this said more unintentionally than she'd cared to admit. By shoving him away again, she returned to her former path of thought- she was better off alone. Sure, he intended no harm, but how could she tell? He wanted to break down the fortress around her and she'd put it up to keep him _out_. In five minutes, no more, she would return to the kitchen and prepare dinner, thus avoiding any unpleasant conversation. Acting the normal, human mother would prevent complications and she'd serve her purpose at the moment.

"You've changed," he accused and not for the first time. "And I don't mean because you're stressed out over Cosmo. Since you came back from Juandissimo, you're completely different."

"No, no, I'm not," she lied and flashed him a feeble, entirely false smile he failed to return. Why couldn't they speak of his troubles with Tootie? If he was happy, maybe he'd be less inclined to notice her own misery. He'd be too self absorbed to notice. It was worth a shot, wasn't it? So was everything else. Four more minutes…

"You're imagining things, sport." Yet her eyes continued to focus on her pink and green bedspread.

Sighing, exasperated, she spotted a look in his eyes she did not like one bit. He was thinking of another way to approach this, to attack her. If his hand weren't pressing down on her wand, she might flee then and there. She swallowed hard, gathering her energy to teleport.

"Wanda, what's _really _bothering you? I can help," he murmured, drawing her into his lap before she could protest. Once there, his hands snaked around her midsection and stole her wand away. The abruptness took her breath away and ruptured her concentration. Goddamn him.

Next to them, breathing only because it was an automatic function, lay Cosmo and her eyes brimmed over with tears. Timmy's eyes followed hers and, in response, he clutched her tightly. She wished he wouldn't because it made it all the harder to swallow the lump in her throat. Wave after wave of powerful urges to break down and tell him everything consumed her- she had to escape before her mouth acted of its own accord.

Cautiously, he, rocking her back and forth like a child, smoothed her curls. When had their roles reversed? Why was she letting him treat her like this? Moreover, why did she find it strangely comforting? Why wasn't she fighting him?

"Tell me," he whispered, running his fingers through her hair. She shuddered, swallowing hard and clamping her eyes shut. Releasing herself would be like succumbing to temptation and, despite the desire; she thought it'd be better if she kept her mouth shut. Why was it so difficult, though? Why was the idea of unlocking the dam for the flood gates so desirous?

Shaking her head obstinately, she was unaware of the footsteps on the tree's bark until a raven haired girl poked her head above. When her violet eyes fell upon Cosmo, she gasped sharply, apparently unaware of his state. Whatever thoughts passed through her mind quickened her resolve, for she adroitly scrambled up and faced them. Pity shone in her eyes, ones Wanda found she could not gaze too deeply in.

"Wanda…" Tootie breathed, sitting next to Timmy, gazing between his estranged girlfriend to his godparents. Offering her a weak smile she did not return, she finally tore her eyes from her somber pink ones and stared openly at Cosmo. Her scrutiny took in everything, from his pallor to his bare back (containing only the stems of wings Remy had callously ripped off) and finally, to his shallow breathing, only alive because he possessed a sliver of a soul. When she finished, her gaze returned to Wanda and she placed a hand on the pink fairy's shoulder.

Swallowing hard, she concentrated her energy on escaping. Why had they teamed up on her? Were they planning it? Why couldn't they leave her alone?

Gently, Timmy cupped Wanda's head up and forced her to peer into his cerulean eyes. This she did, flinching slightly. Unequivocal pity and remorse shone; she yearned to shift her gaze, but he held steadfast. Her wand, she noted unhappily, remained too far away to fetch and she found her concentration beginning to slip. All she could focus on were his eyes boring into hers.

Out of the corner of her eye, Tootie tenderly lifted Cosmo up (Wanda bit back a possessive, inexplicable growl) and, after musing for a moment, indicated Timmy rise so she could tuck him in. Despite the pallor of his face and his shallow breathing, she clearly thought he resembled one asleep. The nagging notion in her mind, that he would be forever asleep all too soon, fought its way to the surface, but she swallowed it back. There was no need to worry her godson and his estranged lover now. Besides, admitting that might release the floodgates. The last thing she needed right now was to admit everything that bothered her. If she pretended none of it existed, she'd be all right and she could cope.

Timmy rose, still clutching Wanda, swiveling her head around to gaze at her husband. Tears struggled to release, but she, once again, swallowed hard. Perhaps with him as a distraction, they wouldn't notice. She wouldn't bet on it, but she could always hope. If both found themselves distracted, an escape might be plausible.

Finishing, she turned to the pink fairy, eyes swollen with previously shed tears. Timmy cradled her to his chest, like a father would an infant, and he sat back down again, Tootie joining him. There was an awed silence for a moment, one lasting far too short, and then both started in again. How long would the barricade continue before they cracked it down? How long until she could leave their piercing questioning?

"You don't have to tell us anything, if you don't want to," Tootie murmured softly and, although she hardly spotted it, the brown haired boy cast her a shrewd look. Relieved, the thought never occurred to her that she might be using reverse psychology and luring her into a false sense of security. In his arms, she relaxed slightly. Maybe they wanted her advice instead. That she could give out freely, without having to worry about discussing Cosmo.

Sighing heavily, she gently disentangled herself from her godson and sat between the two humans. Both offered her weak smiles she failed to return. Distantly, though she ignored it, the thought arose that maybe they were here because they cared about her and worried, just as she did them. Maybe they weren't here because they wanted to crack her shell but because they thought she'd be happier just explaining to them. As quickly as the idea sprang to mind, she squashed it down. She didn't want to be comforted; she wanted to be left alone.

"We could talk about anything, like that odd mirror on the landing by the stairs that wasn't there a few months ago…" Tootie said softly, wondering herself what was up with that thing. From what she recalled, it suddenly appeared and no one had been able to get any reflection out. All anyone saw when they peered in was darkness.

"How would _you _know if it wasn't there a few months ago? You've been gone-" Timmy retorted, glowering at her. Wanda restrained from sighing again, for it looked like another argument brewed. While their attention was no longer focused on her, it vexed her they would begin so soon after she'd tried to help. Sophie was lamentably right- there really was entirely too much sexual tension between them.

"That isn't the point!" Tootie exploded, jumping up and folding her arms across her chest. She fixed him a cold look.

"Then what is?" he retorted, springing forth like someone had stabbed him in the rear. Wanda, for the moment, sat forgotten.

"The point is that we're arguing over nothing and I don't remember that mirror! Do you?" she hissed, her purple eyes narrowed to slits. Wanda definitely spotted the family resemblance; whenever one member got this heated, their stances were similar. Timmy had better watch his step, because he was batting in the dragon's lair and the odds were stacked against him.

"We were arguing over…" he trailed off, remembering himself the mirror's sudden manifestation. As a matter of fact, it'd appeared within the day he'd murdered Lorenzo. Something fishy was going on. There was the chance the two events were not related, but with fairies, coincidences rarely occurred. Someone had done something.

In unison, they turned back to the pink fairy, flushed. She'd promised Lorenzo she'd keep his secret, especially because outing him would mean outing herself. Not to mention Timmy was hardly stable and she really didn't want to set him off. Maybe she could distract them from that…but then that meant telling them what she'd hoped they'd get distracted from. Perhaps she held too many secrets.

"Wanda," Timmy said suddenly, "where _did _that mirror come from?"

Swallowing hard, she cast her mind about for a quick, relatively painless lie. Unfortunately, lying was not her strong suit and, with the amount of stress she'd undergone, she couldn't think nearly as clearly as she'd like. What came out sounded too trite for even a five year old to swallow and when she uttered it, they stared, seeing right through. (Why on earth hadn't she thought of something better?)

"I…that was in our palace in Marseilles and it was the only thing I liked. I didn't think Juandissimo would mind, seeing as he's dead and all…" she lied, nearly choking on the late Latino fairy's name. Far too late, she'd realized her explanation made less than no sense. Anyone with half a brain (or less, considering Cosmo) could knock that down in less time than it took to say, "Butch Hartman the hack".

"_Why _would you want something that reminded you of Juandissimo?" Timmy charged, his gaze piercing through her thin façade. When he spoke his name, she flinched unconsciously, a point Tootie quickly brought up. Damn it all…

"Especially considering whenever anyone says his name around you, you flinch?" Tootie continued, her own eyes too much. Wanda yearned to swing her head, but their stares were far too rapt for her to turn away. She sincerely wished she'd vanished when she had the chance. By now, changing the subject was useless. Both of them had noticed the mirror and doubtlessly wouldn't leave until she explained it satisfactorily.

"That's because it's not Lorenzo's…" Wanda clapped a hand to her mouth and longed to slam her head against something. Damn Freudian slip. Hopefully, they'd overlook it.

"Lorenzo!" Timmy growled, darting to her wall and punching a hole straight through. Beside her, Tootie shuddered. If he could do that to a wall, she hated to imagine what he could do to _her_.

_Why the hell did I say that, anyway? It really had nothing to do with Juandissimo-I must be cracking under stress. And now Timmy's attacking my wall…_

"This is from _Lorenzo's _mansion?" Timmy snapped, breathing hard, through gritted teeth. By now, the hole had grown to about four inches in diameter. For a thirteen year old, he certainly wielded a lot of power, probably due to The Other's training methods.

At least it _was _from Lorenzo's mansion; it'd been his favorite mirror. The hours before Timmy arrived to murder his anti fairy self, he'd summoned him to her and they'd set off, searching for a suitable place to serve as his "prison". By the time Timmy came, they'd settled on this, but she'd hoped it was far enough out of the way so her godson wouldn't put two and two together. Then again, she hadn't counted on Tootie helping him out. She'd hoped with the shroud there, no one would notice.

A thousand questions assaulted Timmy at once and, judging from the expression on Tootie's face, he'd shared them with her. Grand, another opportunity to double-team her. However, her wand lay a scant few feet away and, if she stretched, she might be able to use it to make a very quick getaway. She didn't relish seeing the expression on her godson's face when he found out not only was his anti fairy not dead, he was alive because of her. No amount of affection would dim that anger.

"Where did that mirror _really _come from? Lorenzo's mansion? And how come I can't see my reflection like a normal mirror? How come when I fell against it once, I felt something pushing back at me? _What are you hiding_?" Timmy snapped and, before she could open her mouth and possibly save herself, Tootie picked up.

"Why is it shrouded all the time? Why are you so keen to usher us away from it? Why did it just randomly show up one day?"

Wanda moaned, extending her arm for her wand only to have Timmy snatch it and then, with a threatening look, slam it down on the floor. He hovered his foot threateningly close by. Damn it, too little, too late. Wasn't there any way to save herself? Maybe another distraction, but who? Who would vault up to her treehouse now?

The wheels churned in Timmy's head and the next statement drew all the color from her face. Desperately, she stiffened her wings, ready for flight, and glanced steadily at the open window. Worse come to worst, she'd vault out and hope neither of them fancied grabbing hold. It was the only thought giving her sustenance.

"That mirror showed up the day I beat Lorenzo…and you vanished a few hours before the duel…" He was way too close now. With any more time, he'd figure it out all together. Not to mention Tootie picked up on his train of thought and was puzzling it out herself.

With bated breath, she awaited their final deductions. The world spun around her- even if she miraculously passed out now, they could force the truth out of Lorenzo, supposing they managed to outwit him. A thin smile crossed her face- Timmy hadn't managed to outwit The Other yet. If he thought he stood a chance, he was sadly mistaken. Lorenzo excelled at mind games.

As quickly as the smile arose, it faded. Timmy might not possess the intellect to combat The Other, but Tootie surely did. Her spell had lured Timmy out of Lorenzo's clutches long enough to bring him to the What-If Spell and with her at his side, they might be able to force the man in the mirror into speaking. They weren't the typical cartoon heroes, either; they'd be bound to recognize his voice. And once they figured that out, only one thing remained- discovering the culprit. She'd sink so deeply, she'd never swim to surface again.

"There was no body in the casket for Lorenzo's funeral…" he whispered, close to figuring it completely out. She had to stop him…

"Because anti fairies-" she began, but she never finished. The last piece slid into place cleanly and the rage filling his body was so incredible, Wanda, frightened, cowered into a corner. Anything she might have added was lost in the eruption.

"He's in the goddamn mirror, isn'the?" he roared, nearly electrocuting himself when he punched another sizeable hole in her poor wall, which, she might add, had done nothing to deserve it.

"I…I don't know what you're talking about," she said faintly, but the damage was done. Murderous blue eyes glinted beneath his narrowed lids and he breathed deeply, struggling against homicidal rage. Tootie retreated as well, pressing herself into the right corner of the room. At this rate, there wouldn't be many corners left.

"**_LIAR!" _**he screamed. "**_You're protecting him! You fucking lied to me!"_**

****In any normal creature, faced with such an upset individual, they might withdraw and leave him alone to cool down. The problem was, Wanda was not a normal creature by any means and she'd reached the end of her tether. Like before, when she'd faced Vicky, an insurmountable rage built within her. Everyone acted like she knew absolutely nothing about them when it was _she _that kept them together, _she _that looked after them, _she _who acted in their best interests. Simply put, she was sick of this shit.

"I protected him because you aren't stable right now, damn it_!" _Wanda retorted, surprising herself. She honestly couldn't remember the last time she'd screamed at her godson like this.

"I acted in your best interests_!"_

"How the fuck is rescuing the bastard that killed my parents and raped me **in my best interests**? Wanna explain that to me or are you just going to hide it like you do everything else?" he screeched, and, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Tootie attempt to slink off. However, if she thought Timmy was just going to let her go without snapping at her, she was sadly mistaken. Timmy's anger was at everyone, all at once. And frankly, Wanda couldn't care less.

"And _you_, always running off whenever it's convenient. Do you ever stay to hear someone out, or are you just waiting for the next great lay?" he snarled, grabbing her by the wrist. Affronted, she glowered back, wrenching it out with great effort. Upon closer inspection, he'd given her a black and blue mark.

At once, both females screamed back at him. Anyone passing might have thought they were about to kill each other, which made it quite fortunate no one passed by. It'd be awfully hard to explain (a), what they were arguing about and (b), why they were arguing with a mythological creature. No one really stayed out long near his house anyway; there were many believing it, like Lorenzo's mansion, to be haunted.

"I told you before; I am not a slut, Timmy Turner It was one mistake!" _One very, very bad mistake…_

"If I'm hiding things from you, it's for a very good reason! Do you think I enjoy having the bastard that **you **wished up living in our house? Do you think I enjoy living with the fact that Cosmo's soulless because of something I helped create?" Wanda snapped, shivering and rubbing her hands along her goose pimpled arms. Despite the heat (the temperatures were around ninety and climbing) and the light air conditioner making it bearable in the room, she suddenly felt a chill not associated with the weather. However, blood pounding in her head, she didn't think too much about it.

"Are you going to blame me for that too?" Timmy retorted, ignoring Tootie's response for an attack on his pride. Folding his arms across his chest, he glowered.

"Well, if you hadn't been so selfish and thinking everyone has it better than you, maybe this wouldn't have happened! Maybe if you'd thought of someone else for a change, you wouldn't be arguing all the time with Tootie! Maybe if you didn't act in someone else's interests only when it suited you, we wouldn't _have _this problem!" Wanda snapped, surprised at the words coming out of her mouth. Of course, she meant none of them, but in the heat of the moment, her brain and her voice were disconnected.

On the defensive, fists clenched tightly, looking like he'd like nothing more than to silence her any way he could, he screeched at her. Tendrils of chestnut hair dangled over his eyes, but he made no attempt to smooth them over. It wouldn't have mattered anyway, because he didn't care. All he saw was red.

"And maybe if you'd started admitting you have a problem and you're worried about Cosmo, we wouldn't be here! And I _know _everything is my fault- why do you think I tried to commit suicide?" Timmy replied coldly, casting a very nasty look.

Whatever words she expected, those clearly weren't it, for any color remaining in her cheeks vanished and she sank low against the cushions of her bed. Tootie, too, paled, stepping forward to touch his shoulder, but he shrugged her off. He hadn't said that to garner pity, he'd said it because it was the truth. They both knew it and in that instant, she felt terribly guilty for starting up with him. Because it wasn't him she was angry with, it was herself. She didn't really blame him for everything…she blamed herself.

"Timmy…" She breathed, suddenly ashamed. "I-I'm sorry…"

"Save it for someone who gives a damn," he retorted, not bothering to climb but jumping straight down. There was a terse moment, but she heard him land safely and softly into the grass. How he managed that she wasn't sure, but Tootie reported lately that he'd flipped her off before darting into the house. She sighed heavily.

Tootie followed wordlessly, not foolish enough to plunge that far down. Wanda was alone again, but she found herself displeased with the outcome, to say the least. Floating over to Cosmo, she began to stroke his locks again and was soon mindlessly lost. At least there, she didn't have to deal with everything at once.

…

Vicky stared blankly, rolling Wanda's words over in her mind. She'd wanted to run upstairs and snap at her, but changed her mind. Instead, she wondered if the pink fairy didn't have something. Even though she hadn't any children herself, she'd raised pretty literally thousands of the year.

Accidentally sipping hot water (she'd forgotten to put tea in), she swore loudly. Why hadn't she waited for it to cool down somewhat? Moreover, where was that damn tea bag? She'd have to watch that when she had kids…

Shrugging, she continued to swear bitterly and run cold water over her tongue. This wasn't going to be fun.

Shaking badly, Timmy Turner nearly tripped running back into the house. This was ironic, considering he'd made the jump so smoothly. Then again, he hadn't been thinking then and he definitely was now. Every thought slowed him down and caused ripples through his body. The concept of Lorenzo still being alive made him sick to his stomach.

Flinging himself through the open front door, he spurted through the living room and nearly tripped again, grabbing the coffee table to prevent himself from falling over it. As it was, his knees knocked into it and he cursed bitterly, screaming Lorenzo's name in the midst. _Everything _was his fault and he'd be damned if he was going to accept the blame. How could you blame the creator for the creation? That was like saying he was responsible for Gary's actions towards him…even though he was. Damn it.

Regaining his wind, he eyed the table warily before backing away and around, dashing headlong at the stairs. He took them two at a time and this time, truly did fall, smashing his face into the lush carpet. Pain shot through his forehead; he glowered down for a good minute before pushing himself back up again. Extraordinary bad luck, wasn't it? And he bet he knew the culprit.

Rising to his feet, he finally settled on the landing and snatched the shroud. Furiously he pulled, but it refused to budge. As a matter of fact, it felt like someone else pulled back and he waged a game of tug and war. Whoever held fast, they had the advantage of speed and strength. Timmy growled, yanking as hard as he could- when he found his anti fairy, he'd kill him soundly enough so he'd never return again. He'd beat him senseless and then burn him alive, all the while torturing him. Yes, that was a good idea.

Meanwhile, behind the mirror, Lorenzo, hearing him arrive, had resigned himself for the worst. His former apprentice might have had the advantage of an adrenaline rush brought on by fury, but he had patience and more knowledge than he. Timmy couldn't tell for certain what was behind the mirror (if anything at all), whereas Lorenzo knew exactly what lay within and outside it. He knew his enemy better than his opponent.

"Let the fuck go!" Timmy screeched, nearly being dragged down. Out of the corner of the teenager's eyes, he spotted Sophie, leaving her room to examine the situation. Her mousy brown eyes widened, seeing something he couldn't. Thin lines extended out of the mirror and connected it to him.

Hostility shone in the line and, suddenly fearful, she darted back into her room with a gasp and shut the door. Timmy paid her little mind anyway. He had worse problems, including the anti fairy about to tear the shroud. Hey, wait, tear it? That meant he might be able to see him.

Releasing it, he instead threw it to the ground and stomped down hard. Lorenzo, not realizing this too late, released the shroud right after it tore. For a moment, The Other stared blankly, Timmy's eyes boring into his. Both held their breath, taking in all the ramifications his discovery held. Wanda hadn't lied, even if she hadn't offered the idea freely. Lorenzo really _had_ squirreled himself away.

For a moment, words failed him. Instead, he stared, a swirl of emotions tumbling in his mind. By his thighs, his fists clenched tightly. How would it feel to smash that mirror into a thousand pieces? To reach through and beat Lorenzo to death? To hurt _him _the way he'd hurt him?

Lorenzo gazed steadily back, gaze full of longing, guilt, and hope. Maybe Timmy had changed since they last met and, if he hadn't, the mirror would shield him. He shuddered to think of Timmy in his murderous rage, gleaming in his eyes now. For once, he was grateful he was imprisoned. Otherwise, he might be dead before he could say his beloved's names.

"You're _alive_," Timmy spat, more full of awe than anger at the moment. Stunned, he reached out to touch the mirror's surface, but for some odd reason, it had become glass again. Well, perhaps glass like was the best term, because it would not shatter upon impact and shone eerily.

"In a sense, yes…" Lorenzo replied, aware now of the double standards for the mirror. Either only he could reach out from within and no one else could…or Wanda had designed it so Timmy couldn't attack him from within. Whatever the case, he was eternally grateful. A beating at the hands of his apprentice was not something he relished. It was bad enough it had happened once preceding his death at said apprentice's hands.

Insurmountable rage surged; the bile in Timmy's throat rose and he nearly choked on his anger. Narrowing his eyes, he pounded his fist where Lorenzo's face reflected. Like a gong, when he struck it, the surface shimmered and the shock returned upon his hand. Biting back a cry, he nursed his right hand in his left and glared.

"I_ killed _you," Timmy snapped, breathing heavily through his nostrils like a bull about to charge. Both shoulders hunched and Lorenzo winced, recognizing the position- it was the one he usually had before he prepared to take the dummy's heads off in their training. Thank Beelzebub he was protected. Otherwise, he might start praying to the Dark Lords.

"I FUCKING KILLED YOU!" He roared. "I stabbed you through the heart and watched you bleed! I beat you to a bloody pulp! Goddamn you!"

Smiling slightly, he shifted so Timmy could see his whole face. Ah, this was what he'd missed about his apprentice; he had a knack for damning things to a Lord that didn't exist. The last time he'd heard it, he'd burst out laughing and Timmy had stared at him dumbly. It'd taken him a full ten minutes to calm down.

Swallowing hard, still looking very much like he'd love to ram the mirror with his head (and perhaps his horns), he suddenly laughed insanely. Lorenzo stared, recalling trying to teach him the evil cackle hadn't quite worked according to plan. He just didn't have the voice for it. When they finally finished, they'd settled for an odd whine.

"Wanda!" Timmy called, but until she arrived, he wasn't quite sure he was summoning her or...Well, he rather preferred not to think about what happened under that silly pink hat. Though it took her a few minutes to realize, she arrived, dazed. For a moment, she glanced between Lorenzo and Timmy. She didn't quite understand yet.

"Timmy? Did you call me?" She frowned, and then the pieces fell together. The color drained from her face and her gaze shifted frantically from her godson to his creation. When her eyes met Timmy's, she retreated, disliking the gleam. He'd worn that around her last in October...

_Oh, shit..._ Wanda thought, fumbling with her wand. _This is just great...I **knew** I said too much before..._

Laughing insanely again, Timmy motioned towards the mirror and smirked.

"Did _you_ do this?" He barked again, in a mockery of laughter. "Did you let Lorenzo out to play?"

She tensed, sensing that after he got over sounding unhinged, he might start attacking. She had to choose her words carefully- they'd already paid for her last indiscretion. Still, what to say? What on earth _could_ she say to keep him from trying to tear her apart?

Swallowing hard, speaking with courage she wished she had, she replied, "He wished it. And, to quote a certain ghost on Danny Phantom, 'so you wish it, so it shall be'."

"I don't give a flying fuck what some stupid ghost says on some stupid show by some half assed artist that can't draw for shit. _You_ did this?" He said, still calm but smiling freakily. The eye of the storm...before it blew over and nearly buried her.

"I-I had to, Timmy. He was-is part of you. I have to grant anything he wishes." As she answered, she flew towards the wall. While she wasn't cowardly enough to retreat and let Lorenzo take the brunt of it, she really wanted to. He frightened her, especially because he reminded her of Juandissimo.

"Is that so? So if he wished me dead, then you'd have to grant it?" Snorting in disgust, he punched the air right in front of her and if she hadn't moved, she would have gotten a nasty punch in the face. Maybe he didn't just _look_ deranged, maybe he _was_ right now.

"Y-yes..." Wanda said slowly. "Death wishes haven't been outlawed by Da Rules yet."

"Or if he wished he could rape me repeatedly, then you'd have to grant it, wouldn't you?"

"I-I suppose...I don't know exactly...it's never come up..." She murmured faintly, leaning against the wall for strength. It possessed a fortitude she could only yearn for at the moment. He'd already tried to hit her...and if he couldn't get the true object, she thought with a sinking sensation that she might do.

"But you _could_ grant that, couldn't you? Along with anything else his _majesty_ wishes? So it wouldn't _matter_ if I wished he were dead, because he could just wish he wasn't."

_Makes me wonder why he didn't just wish Cosmo and Wanda would kill themselves if he can do all that_. Malevolence chimed in with the homicidal rage. Typical villain, overlooking the obvious.

"So no matter what, he always wins, is that it? I'll never be rid of him because he'll keep coming back even if I kill him ten million times?" He snapped, cornering her. Wanda had to put up her wand in self defense to keep him from attempting to hit her again. The proximity gave him a wand burn mark on his face.

From the mirror, oddly silent until just now, Lorenzo replied, "I don't think I'd like to be killed ten million times. I think I'd just throw in the towel around five million."

Ignoring him (although Wanda smiled weakly), he continued. "The only way to get rid of him is to kill myself, isn't it? Otherwise, he'll never stop. In that case, I wish I were de-"

Hearing the argument from her bedroom (Sophie did as well, but she chose not to get involved, undoubtedly a smart choice), Tootie burst out and glowered. Striding up to him, she slapped him so hard, he barely felt the burn mark. Her whole body quivered and although he cowered, she slapped him three more times.

"You kill yourself, Timmy Turner, and I'll kill _you_ ten million times and bring you back. Don't you _dare."_ Tootie snapped and, without another word, stomped back up the stairs. She slammed the door, but her telepathy continued.

((I'm serious. I'll even find a way for me to haunt you alive.))

Stunned, taken aback and head spinning, Timmy lost his train of thought and merely stared blankly for a few seconds. Wanda gazed back with bated breath. Perhaps he might not be angry anymore, but she doubted he'd forget this. As if reinforcing her point, he punched the mirror again and glowered at her.

"I'll never forgive you, Wanda. I'll get you for this."

He too turned on his heel and stomped up the stairs; presumably, he would visit Tootie, but Wanda didn't feel like following. Somehow, she didn't feel welcome. Sighing heavily, she faced Lorenzo. She owed him an apology in the very least.

"Lorenzo, I'm sorry that..." She trailed off, because she realized he didn't need to hear the rest. He already knew. Still, that hardly prevented her from feeling dreadful about it. Damn her mouth.

"Never mind that. Go to Cosmo."

She'd never been more grateful in her life. Floating towards him and hugging him lightly (proving only Timmy couldn't touch him), she vanished into thin air.


	9. Restless

Disclaimer: Dumbledore! No! Er…that's not what I meant to say. Sorry, obsessed. At any rate, I don't own Fairly Oddparents, but I do own Lorenzo and Sophie.

Chapter Nine: Restless

**(The treehouse, 8:45 p.m. PST)**

When words failed, she merely stared, the amber sunset shimmering in her eyes. Beneath the treehouse and in the streets beyond, children had played merrily. Their voices had ventured upwards, but ended on her ears. The world consisted of her and Cosmo; no one else existed. Hours passed without a flicker of a glance at the time. Time, like the rest of the universe, was immaterial.

At the moment, he lay quite still and limp in her lap. Not even his chest rose. For all extensive purposes, he was nearly dead. Other than his thin sliver of a soul bound by their telepathy, nothing else restrained him. Perhaps Wanda acknowledged this, clutching him all the tighter.

"Wanda…" A voice echoed, but its lure was not sufficient. Her soft, trembling hand stroked his frigid forehead. Already, his body had acquired a semi rigor mortis. Wanda didn't dwell on that thought.

"Wanda, answer me." This time, the voice called stronger, more insistent. Wanda personally failed to see the importance of focusing long enough to respond. Whoever it was, certainly they could wait. Cosmo's soul called to her and if she ignored him…

"Wanda!" The voice lost whatever innate patience it contained and shrieked. Jerked out of her trance, Wanda mentally cursed. Who desired to speak so ardently they persisted? Moreover, how had they managed to sneak in stealthily?

Looming above, peculiar considering the minimal difference in height, stood Sophie. Angry sparks flew from her goddaughter's eyes. In fact, her whole stance communicated fury and Wanda instinctively recoiled. Considering Timmy's recent display, that was the _last _thing she needed.

"Wanda…" Sophie said, her voice softer now. "You can't hide here for the rest of your life." _Not to mention I'm not entirely certain how long fairies **live **and chances are Timmy and I'll be long dead before you finally leave if you keep this up. _

Sighing, relieved, the pink fairy relaxed; her hand, nonetheless, stretched for her wand, close just in case. It struck her suddenly the extent of her inattentiveness. Had Timmy decided to make good on his threat, she might find herself at the receiving end of any number of painful acts. Forgetting her troubles and sliding into an abyss, bereft of emotion, tempted her too much. Still, who could blame her? The only creature she'd ever considered her stronghold lay comatose.

An immature response rose, clamoring for release, but she stifled it. What good would it do to cast her aside? If Sophie cared enough to break her from Cosmo, then maybe there was a _possibility _she wouldn't revolt like Timmy. The thought sent unpleasant squirms down her stomach.

It hadn't been her fault, damn it! Blame whoever (Jorgen, more than likely) designed Da Rules. Timmy behaved like she'd a choice, like she _enjoyed _torturing her godson. Why on earth would she deliberately revive the one creature that antagonized him the most?

Lamentably, his creation _was _her concept. In a moment of foolishness she regretted daily, she'd opened her mouth and inserted her foot. Never before had a wish backfired so spectacularly and consequently been ignored by Jorgen. If Lorenzo hadn't wreaked havoc with everything and everyone he touched, she might be grateful for Jorgen's lack of interference. Now, she deemed it punishment.

Noting her dazed expression, Sophie snapped her fingers, jarring Wanda back to the present. Apparently, she would not take silence instead of a conversation. Sophie's dogmatic nature pleased her, but she really wished she'd leave her alone. Discussing Timmy's reaction to Lorenzo was not at all how she'd planned to spend the rapidly approaching evening.

"I heard Timmy screaming and that creature in the mirror, Lorenzo," Sophie murmured, sitting reluctantly beside her. _I suspect most of California overheard that. One of these days, we have to put a muzzle on that kid._

"My godson…" Wanda trailed off, unable to elucidate him diplomatically. The completions springing forth were less than civil. With her current state, only years of experience bit back her tongue.

"Is a dick," another voice completed, climbing adroitly. Seconds later, her pigtailed head appeared above the pink carpet. Mere moments passed and she joined Sophie. Surprised, she shifted over, permitting the older girl more room and Tootie afforded her a friendly smile nervously returned.

"Who only thinks through that. You have to excuse him; his brains are stuck in a very small space." _And it's a miracle he hasn't pissed them away yet, _Tootie thought savagely.

Unable to control anything else, Wanda sighed at Tootie's word choice. She'd recently scolded the two of them about vulgarity in front of Sophie and here she was, using it again. Sophie was nine, not thirteen. Since her parents were less than competent (unable to remember her and all), she was a surrogate mother. Therefore, she saw no instance for rampant cursing.

To her surprise, Sophie smiled thinly before returning to her godmother. Now two sets of eyes poured attention; she fidgeted absently with Cosmo's languid locks. Precisely what she didn't seek was more witnesses. The next thing, Timmy would stride up the ladder and then accuse her of cajoling Eve to eat the forbidden fruit.

Perturbed, Wanda restarted. "My godson…has a flair for the dramatic. He's at a very difficult time in his life…"

"In other words," Tootie translated, "you don't want to call him a bastard because that'd be out of character. You also hope his hostility is isolated when it isn't. Timmy thinks he owns the house and knows better than everyone. Are you going to tell me that's a typical teenager?"

Defensive, not quite understanding why, Wanda retorted, "It is! Timmy's gone through a lot in the past year; things that normal creatures would not encounter in their whole lives, and-"

"Wanda," Tootie cut in, "I _love _him and I'm not sticking up for him. Believe it or not, the world won't come to an end if you admit your godson's mistreating you and everyone else within earshot."

"It's completely understandable, considering his past. Anyone would have these feelings after-"

"_Stop _rationalizing everything!" Tootie snapped.

"That's one of your defense mechanisms," Sophie murmured thoughtfully, chewing her lip. As this was the first comment since Tootie's arrival, Wanda and Tootie both gazed at her. A blush spread furiously across her face. _Why do they always argue in this house? Why can't they agree on **anything**?_

"When you feel cornered, you rely on rationalization. When that fails, you flee. You find solace in brainless things, like your husband. Since logic has left you empty, you think its absence will aid you," Sophie said, speaking like she'd known all her life. The lifelines informed her of more than relationships now. They told about lies and automatic triggers. Wanda's line glowed bright pink, flashing with the urgency of a compulsion of concealment.

Wanda stared, stunned. _How on earth can she know that? I never…well, of course I wouldn't say it…but she's only nine! How can she know all that?_

Tootie, too, gawked. Both, mouths agape, peered at Sophie, unabashed. She wasn't finished; she'd followed the pink line to the pacing blue one.

"Timmy uses anger. When he feels outraged, he lunges out. He'd rather avoid taking the blame than accept it outwardly. However, if left to his own devices, the guilt gnaws him. He can either express it through snapping or berating himself for some fault, imagined or otherwise. In either case, he proves volatile. He too needs someone to keep him anchored and prevent that stray anger from lashing out at the ones he least desires to receive it.

"He may _act _like he's furious with you, Wanda and go so far to convince himself, but he's not. He's bombarding you with guilt for what he cannot accept. It's easier for him to scream, rant, and rave than internalize. The last time he did…he nearly killed himself. He lets his anger, resentment, and everything else compound until it suffocates him.

"Go to him during a moment of need, particularly when he is in solitude. You might be surprised."

* * *

**(In the depths of Timmy's haunted subconscious, time unknown   
**

_Surrounded by soothing dark, Timmy Turner's feet echoed hollowly in Lorenzo DeMedici's empty mansion. In his hands, he clutched the transistor tightly; its stagnant brown rod dug into his palms. The pain served to remind him sternly of his mission. Lorenzo would not approve failure and he was eager to please. He shuddered, recalling exactly his stance   
_

_ Tonight, his mission concerned Wanda, not her buffoon husband. According to Lorenzo, the buffoon would be dealt with separately and, despite previous discrepancies, The Other trusted him with his greatest rival's death. Timmy had assured him he would return with her head. After all, given her situation, bound and gagged, it seemed like an easy assignment. He could even torture her beforehand   
_

_ Weeping ricocheted and he halted, straining. It sprang from everywhere at once. Not only could he hear it externally, but it rang within his mind and in the depths of his soul. Was Wanda crying for Cosmo or his sanity? Was Tootie pleading with him? They blended into one- or were they one? Did they speak for the same things, in different voices   
_

_ In the eastern wing, the further room was where he found her, perched on the bed. When he arrived, the door was already ajar. He shrugged, supposing this to be Lorenzo's way of communicating this was her location. Lorenzo usually had more cunning than he. _

_Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted his godmother, pink eyes wide and wary. They were the only things unbound and their gaze, had Timmy any other mindset than Lorenzo's, would have stunned him. They shone with unshed tears. Sheer effort alone prevented her from shedding them   
_

_ Striding coolly inside, he removed her gag. What purpose did it serve? Who could she possibly warn? The only creatures that could come to her aid were either under Lorenzo's duress or otherwise incapacitated. She was helpless and hopeless   
_

_ "Timmy…" Wanda whispered. In his hands, the transistor transformed smoothly from its stagnant state into a scythe, large and powerful. Shaking his head, he transformed it to a machete. First torture, then death   
_

_ "Please, sport…" She whimpered, curling up. "Sweetie, you know this is wrong." _

_ "Shut **up**!" Timmy roared, yanking her by the hair and dangling her. Unable to shield herself, she peered pleadingly into his ruthless cerulean eyes. Whatever she sought, she discovered nothing. She sagged in his hand   
_

_ "Timmy…I love you…" she whispered, continuing despite the chill descending her spine. "I would die for you." _

_ "Then you will!" Timmy screamed, shaking and slamming her harshly into the wall. An unpleasant crack rent the air- when he dropped her back onto the bed, blood trailed. Despite the obvious pain, Wanda kept mum. In fact, the only sound escaping was another whimper. She would not give him the satisfaction   
_

_ "Lorenzo killed Cosmo," Wanda said calmly, agony sparking in her dull pink eyes. Taken aback, he gawked. Lorenzo had said Cosmo still lived…somewhere…where he could not visit   
_

_ "He snapped his neck after beating him into submission. I heard him in my head. I felt every single bruise, every whip mark, every broken bone. When he died, I longed to follow him   
_

_ "And do you know what your precious **master **did when he died, Timmy?" Tears sparkled now, threatening to spill over. Timmy touched his face and stared, stunned to discover his cheeks were wet. Images of Cosmo's broken body lying facedown on the floor flooded his mind   
_

_ "He laughed. He laughed in my face while I sobbed my heart out. He told me this was the price of being your godmother, loving you unconditionally. I, the creature seeking nothing than to protect and cherish you, had caused his death. He claimed I might as well have killed him myself   
_

_ "And now, here you are. You've come to finish me off." Again, she raised her head pleadingly, imploring him to find himself in Lorenzo's lies and rejoin her. As long as both lived, she was his godmother, not an enemy. She only wanted what was best for him. _

_ Cold anger swept him. Like the tears, he could not fathom it. When Lorenzo's attention had wavered, murdering Cosmo, he'd a flash of conscience. Cosmo had been his godfather and he didn't deserve Lorenzo's torture before death. At least, that was the logic ere Lorenzo's reasoning superceded. Now, he loathed her again. She was just trying to brainwash him against his master. _

_ "I've come to shut your lying mouth, frach." He spat on her face and it, like her tears, trickled down. Unable to wipe it off, she cringed. _

_ "Can't you feel it?" she whispered. "The ache…"_

_"Liar!" Timmy screamed, shuddering. Yes, he could sense it. While he and Wanda were not tied as closely as he and Tootie, he occasionally received telepathic feelings from her. Presently, he received her anguish. It throbbed and stole other thoughts away   
_

_ An uneasy silence descended upon the room and Wanda shifted slightly. For a moment, Lorenzo struggled to recapture his apprentice. Timmy's thoughts swirled with Wanda's pain and his sudden acknowledgement of Cosmo's death's significance. However, he needn't have bothered to stopper it. Another rage ravaged him. _

_ Voices in his subconscious quickly submerged his anger to a more recent event. They urged him to attack her for her inexcusable crimes. They wished she would struggle through the emotions surging through him. And they whispered one death would not matter   
_

_ "I hate you!" Timmy screamed, slapping her in the face with the machete. Sparkling red blood pooled. _

_ "You brought Lorenzo, you made him rape me, you revived him. You don't give a shit about me!   
_

_ "No!" Wanda screamed, body wracked with sobs. At her denial, he jabbed her in the stomach; he slid the knife in and out, relishing the energy he extolled. Wanda choked, coughing up blood. _

_ "Timmy…" she whispered, her eyes dazed and unfocused. "I would never hurt you willingly…I love you…Everything I did that I could…I did for **you**…   
_

_ "Liar! You **like **to see me hurt!" _

_ This time, he grabbed the machete and wrenched it in her stomach; he twisted it. Wanda screamed his name, her voice full of panic. With a sudden, despairing clarity, she knew she would die soon. _

_ "Timmy! Timmy, stop! Please! I love you!"   
_

_ "Bullshit!" Timmy roared in response, pulling it out only to wrench and twist further up. With each stab, he moved upwards. Wanda's breathing became labored; her eyes closed, the exertion to keep them open too costly. Tears spilled down her cheeks   
_

_ "Timmy…" Wanda whimpered. "Oh, Timmy…"   
_

_ Hands soaked in her blood, he watched her jerk and then, finally, die. Instead of remorse, a grim satisfaction soothed him. Finally, his master would be pleased. Although a short shower might be in order, he had done what his master asked. There was only one last step…   
_

_ Turning the machete to a scythe once more, Timmy cut off Wanda's head._

_

* * *

_

**(Timmy Turner's bedroom, 3:30 a.m. PST)**

The real Timmy Turner gasped, blankets soaked in sweat. Tears streamed down his cheeks and wet his already soaked collar. His forehead was cold and clammy. What a nightmare…

"Wanda…" he whispered, convalescing with sobs. Pressing his hands to his face, he rocked back and forth. In the darkness, arms encircled him and he leaned against them and the comfort they offered. They felt so familiar…so loving…

"I killed Wanda…"

Bile rose and he separated temporarily to dash to the bathroom. Once there, he vomited until he dry heaved. Knees weak, he collapsed onto the cool bathroom floor and rested his chin against the porcelain bowl. When the room stopped spinning, he would wash his mouth out. For the moment, he was comfortable on the floor. It lessened the sensation of hot blood pouring over his hands.

Sobbing weakly, terribly shaken, Timmy's head nearly fell to the tiles. However, an unseen hand directed it in the proper direction and stroked his locks. He closed his eyes as sickening heat soared traversed his body. If anything remained in his system, he'd have expelled it. All that came out was disgusting tasting spittle.

Tenderly, like a mother, the hand caressed his cheek and then produced a glass of water. It indicated he gargle and spit. All the while, it said nothing. Its cool touch calmed, though.

Regaining enough strength to return to bed, arms guided him back, ensuring he never wavered or stumbled. The presence remained and, in the dim light of the moon, he caught a silhouette. Blinking, he scrutinized it, but could not discern anyone. Yet she seemed so damn familiar.

He sensed her about to leave and grasped her wrist. The figure halted, breathing shallowly. It still had yet to speak. If he didn't know any better, he'd say that was deliberate. It didn't want him to know who.

"Mom?" Timmy whispered eagerly, hoping against hope she'd returned. The figure stiffened, stung. With an effort, it wrenched his hand from its wrist and sought its escape device. Fortunately, the device proved close at hand.

"I'm not your mother," It muttered coldly, preparing to leave. "Good night, Timmy."

A thousand questions and answers soared through his mind; all struggled to be asked immediately. At the moment, he managed to stare blankly. If the shadow wasn't his mother and the voice was so familiar…just like Wanda…but what would Wanda be doing here? He'd told her he hated her. No one in their right mind would return willingly after what had happened.

Just before the pink flash lit his eyes, he realized she would leave if he didn't prevent it. Despite his lingering doubts about her and his previous feelings, the dream surfaced repeatedly. He remembered how swiftly and coldly he'd stabbed her. Horrible rage had been his modus operandi and he'd listened remorselessly. The things he'd snapped at her belonged to the version wanting to hurt her…and that version had shown its desire to kill her…

"Wanda, wait."

Fidgeting, eyes widened in surprise, she analyzed him. There was no hostility or fury. In fact, no trace remained. This alone paused her.

Tentatively, she stroked his clammy forehead. Cold sweat clung to his brown hair and it'd be a while before he fully recovered. In the old days, this meant she'd wait until he fell asleep to depart. He might be thirteen, but he was a child in her eyes. And, after that, he needed his mother.

_Which isn't me, _she thought sadly. _Why else would he have called for her? _

"I…I had a nightmare…" he began awkwardly, uncertain what to say. He had a shrewd notion she was only here because she couldn't gracefully exit. Although he scarcely saw her, he deeply appreciated her not shunning him right now. Despite everything he'd said and done, she doted on him. A lump rose in his throat that refused to go down.

"I know, sweetie," Wanda murmured, sitting on the edge of his bed. Soundlessly, he shifted to permit her more room. In the dark, she smiled weakly, her other hand slick with sweat as it struggled for purchase on her wand. Timmy might not be threatening now, but she wasn't convinced for the future. She'd only a glimmer of his dream and therefore, only understood a portion of what upset him. She suspected it had to do with her, hence her caution.

"I heard you call my name."

"Oh." Behind his unsaid words, she caught the rest. _Is that the only reason you're here? Did I scare you off? Should I have? _

Tensing again, she rose, nearly dropping her wand. She was not keen for alone time, regardless of how vulnerable he looked. (Could she afford to remain until he fell asleep again? Surely he needed someone to look after him…)

"Wanda, please!" Timmy cried, startling her again. "Please don't leave me. I…need you."

"I thought you hated me, sport. Wouldn't you rather I left before you finally paid me back for resurrecting Lorenzo? Tootie might hear you murdering me."

Her tone was light, but it belied her exhaustion. Every day was something new. If she survived to his eighteen birthday, she was swearing off humans. They caused too much strife, not to mention this one alone had shortened her lifespan considerably.

The effect of these three simple sentences astounded her. Timmy gasped, recalling his nightmare, and yanked her by the waist back onto his bed. Once there, he clutched her like a life preserver. The last time she was in such a tight embrace, it'd been with Timmy's ghost parents peering down at her and Cosmo. Timmy had hated her back then too.

"No! I can't…you wouldn't…no!"

He wrapped his arms around her back (she winced when he brushed her wings) and cradled her waist. Bemused, she simply stared; he buried his head in her chest and sobbed again. Tentatively, she resumed stroking his face and hair. Assuming his fit was natural, she released her wand, clattering to the floor. Both hands caressed his back to placate him.

Nonetheless, a blush spread- he was a bit old for this. Thankfully, he ceased soon, although he continued to cradle her. In fact, when she moved away, he only held tighter. Uneasy again, she tensed and wished she hadn't let her wand drop.

"I dreamt I…" He swallowed hard, leery to finish. Dead silence filled the room and, swallowing again, he choked out the rest.

Silence hung again, but not quite the same. Wanda shuddered, remembering when Timmy might have subjected her to that. They lay, mulling it over. It was a very long time before either broke the gloom.

"Does it frighten you?" Wanda murmured. "That your subconscious hates me enough to show you attacking me?" _Is that why you vomited? _

"No!" Timmy burst out. "It scares me that I want to do something like that! It scares me because I…I love you…

"And I'm sorry…I'm sorry I screamed at you…I'm sorry I threatened you…oh, Wanda…"

He broke off, fighting tearful floods. In the ensuing silence, Wanda merely pressed him against her until he calmed. For once, it was nice to just be a godmother. She didn't have to think about anything, including what lurked in the treehouse, Sophie's uncanny insights, or Vicky's unpleasantness. She was needed here…and he didn't hate her at all. A great weight unknown weight lifted.

"It's all right," she found herself saying, "it's all right. I understand."

Stroking his sweaty locks and clammy forehead, she cradled him until he fell asleep again. Not until much later did it occur to her she'd never said she forgave him.

**

* * *

**

**(The basement, ****6:30 a.m. PST**

Mark Chang, footsteps echoing, paced the basement floor endlessly. Fortunately, Vicky slept so deeply, he doubted a dragon biting her head off would wake her. This was the first stroke of luck he'd had in days, maybe months. As much as he loved Vicky, her shrill voice ringing with complaints and insults had begun to ebb away what little remained of his patience. An hour without her barking orders at him or demeaning him worked wonders. Silence truly was golden.

Halting abruptly, he gazed over at her, red hair splayed across the pillow. While he acknowledged his irritation, he also acknowledged his deep love. Despite what she shoved in his face, he would never leave her. Regardless of the temperament apparently typical of pregnant human females, he could not stop hoping there would be a light at the end of the tunnel. _Or, _he thought, shaking his head ruefully, _an eye of the storm. _

Nestled deep in his faded khaki pants was an item that if Vicky discovered would lead to endless arguing. This was precisely why it rested in a place she would not think to look. Given her mood swings, arousing the teapot anger was a recipe for disaster. Her last threat, to tear his balls off and cram them down his throat, was delivered with such gusto he could only wonder if, in the right mind, she might attempt it. The thought unnerved him.

Through his talks with Wanda, he perceived humans provided for their families through work. Therefore, he sought employment. Although not having a very good idea of what humans did in the workplace, he had instruments to fabricate, alter, or bamboozle humans into enlisting him. While he did not plan to use any, he would if he had to. Living in a basement was no way to start a family.

However, while all his thoughts concurred, he'd yet to communicate that to his new bride. Truth be told, he wasn't entirely sure when to break it to her. He could never accurately predict a storm and dashing headlong could end in missing genitalia. As much as he loved Vicky, he _did _enjoy certain things…

Swallowing hard, he paced again and then pivoted. Simply vanishing wordlessly seemed cruel, but it was a mark of how much she irked him to consider it. If she truly missed him, she could contact him via telepathy. He had mental barriers- if she started up, he could block her. Actually, come to think of it, that was quite possibly the best idea he'd had in a while. There were benefits to rising early.

Situated on the countertop beside his hand, a notepad sat. A pen lay close by, both pleading him to attempt explaining. If he didn't, they argued, then she would be worse. At the moment, he wasn't certain that was possible, but he had to try. Anything to soothe those fragile, pulsating nerves…

"Dearest Vicky," the pen scratched.

"I have done what Wanda told me befits an adult human male. Since most males make livings through jobs, I have decided to seek employment. Surely you must admit that dwelling within Timmy Turner's basement cannot be conducive to raising a child. Therefore, I must earn money to ensure we can safely leave this place and have our own life.

"Forever yours,

"Mark Chang."

Smiling softly, not noticing just how many ways his new bride could torture Wanda with that letter, Mark kissed her on the forehead and disappeared for the day.

* * *

**(Tootie's bedroom, 8:43 a.m. PST)**

Breathing shallowly, sweat pouring down, Tootie cried out distressingly. Unconsciously, she reached for anything to nurse and, in a fog, she perceived Timmy. Since he in particular had been assassinated viciously in her dream, she yearned for his comforting touch. Regardless of how they treated each other, her heart stopped when contemplating his death. She knew she would perish the instant he did.

Timmy smirked, but when she opened her eyes to dispel the nightmare, he was all wrong. For one thing, his black hair shone in the sunlight streaming and his red jacket reeked of leather tanning oil. Only one boy had those articles…maybe she still dreamt. Maybe this was a nightmare and she'd wake to discover Gary was _not _sleeping in her bed.

Pinching herself hard, she shrieked painfully. Gary cursed his creator under his breath and rolled over. Damn, that cemented things. He'd snuck into her bed and then lay down next to her like he found nothing wrong.

But why? Did he revel in making things worse? Did he enjoy Timmy's torture? Did he want to strike a wedge between them?

Breathing through her nose, trying her best not to panic and thus rouse him, she slid out of bed. Lamentably, the sudden movement brought her to his attention and, with fluttering eyelids, he awakened. Dead silence pervaded and, for a split second, she hoped he'd turn over and slumber on. Her heart thundered in her chest.

"Good morning, Toots," Gary called with a toothy grin. Tootie could not help the scream escaping. She'd been hoping he wouldn't speak. She'd been hoping this was a nasty trick.

"Get _out_!" Tootie shrieked, searching for an object, any would do, to slap him upside the head. If Timmy walked in, how this would look! A surge of anger shot through her. _Goddamn _him!

Footsteps sounded and, before she could hope to construct a counterargument, Timmy rushed headlong into the room. His cerulean eyes scanned Tootie's sheer purple nightgown and Gary, nestled under the covers with his customary smirk. Seconds ticked passed like hours and she prayed he correctly interrupted the scene. She would have had more luck convincing Jorgen to stop bullying creatures and take up miniature golf instead.

"Timmy, this isn't what it looks like!" Tootie cried, frustrated to no end by the tears assaulting her. By her thighs, fists formed. _He'd better believe me… _

"_Whore_," Timmy hissed, both in telepathy and aloud. ((Aren't I enough for you? Or do you have to toy with every boy's head you see?))

Seared by his mental accusation, Tootie stumbled backward. On the table lurked her transistor, but she didn't dare touch it. It took a while for her brain to process what he'd said. Not only did he consider her promiscuous, but he believed it. He thought she wasn't true to him…and nothing could be further from the truth…

"He snuck into my bed!" Tootie snapped. "_What the hell is wrong with you_?"

"Bullshit! You're such a slut!"

((I love _you_! Please believe me!)) She clamored in telepathy, but his eyes narrowed disdainfully. With a curt, cold glance at Gary, he snapped back a reply and, once again, she stumbled. She could not imagine anything more painful than what followed.

"That's funny. I didn't know you could lie in telepathy. You don't deserve to touch me." ((_Whore_.))

Glaring at the two of them as though they were not fit to lick his shoes, he slammed the door in Tootie's stammering face.

"I hate you, Tootie."

* * *

**(Same faery place, 9:03 a.m. PST))**

"_You!_" Tootie growled, brandishing the transistor, converting into a butcher knife. One couldn't really blame the lack of ingenuity- she _had _contended with a perverted imaginary friend and his psychotic creator five seconds ago. She still seethed and did not put effort into weapons. Besides, this would work well.

"I didn't do anythin'!" Gary protested, backing up into her carved wooden headboard. Nonetheless, she jumped, knife poised threateningly over his crotch. Color drained from his face- punching him was one thing, but castrating him? Not cool.

"Timmy thinks I'm sleeping with you!" Tootie shrieked, hand quaking. Once again, he retreated, guarding himself. He'd rather have a stabbed hand than the alternative.

Gathering patience from heaven knew where, Gary placed his hands atop hers and gently pushed the transistor aside. Silence reigned and Tootie fumed, but she kept her mouth firmly shut. As angry as she was with Gary, her true focal point was Timmy. Besides, maybe Gary hadn't meant anything. Maybe all boys weren't dicks like him…

"Look," Gary murmured, managing to avoid holding her longer than necessary. Only by sheer will power he accomplished this feat. It wouldn't work if he behaved like _him_. He had to earn her trust.

"Ever since Tim-Tim chucked me out, I've lived on the streets. I wanted a nice, cool place to stay insteada sleepin' under a slide. I musta forgotten where I was-sorry.

"But it sounds like you've got worse troubles."

Deflating, she sat on the bed beside him. Because she had to, because she couldn't contend with lies and blind hatred, she nodded weakly. She had to believe him, so she would. It was as simple as that. He couldn't be lying because she didn't want him to be.

Turning her head warily, she murmured, "Why should I tell you anything?"

Every muscle ached to caress her face, yet he maintained his coolness. He'd win her through allying himself, not forcing himself on her. When the time came, more than his words would suffice. When the time came…Timmy would be sorry he'd screwed him over. He'd steal his girl out from under him.

"You don't," he said simply, offering her a weak smile. "But it might make you feel better."

_He's Timmy's imaginary friend…he knows everything, including his faults. I won't have to tell him anything because he already knows. That's why he hates Timmy…isn't it? Because he knows him so well? _

Desperate, she convinced herself anyone that familiar with Timmy had to despise him too. Of course, the theory bypassed Wanda entirely, but she couldn't think lucidly. Anyone on her side, understanding biased by whatever factors, she could rely on. And they would support her in return.

Sighing in relief, she unloaded. Words, buoyed by the hot steam of anger, floated meaninglessly past them. A quarter of an hour fled, followed by a half hour. Tootie talked herself hoarse, all the while sidestepping details of her disappearances. The only phrase she remembered uttering was, "It's not fair".

Nodding, smirk withheld, Gary comforted and satiated her with everything she wanted to hear. Towards the end, he roped an arm around her waist and rubbed her shoulders. Too engrossed, she continued on, not noticing him coming onto her. He was on her _side_; therefore, he wasn't trying to take advantage of her.

One hand cupped her chin and the other stroked her face. She shivered, shutting her eyes. This was exactly how Timmy _should_ be acting. He _should_ be inducing wishes to vanquish missions, instead of vanishing from Dimmsdale. He should _care_.

Smirking since her eyes were closed, Gary's lips lightly brushed hers. One hand intertwined with her right and squeezed. Adrenaline rushed through and she ignored the world surrounding them. Too many conflicting emotions swept her and she chose the kiss, instead of an emotion, to focus on.

Cal and Daniela, floating unseen, muttered ominously. They perched, phantomlike, by her windowsill. While they might have varying opinions on many topics, they agreed now.

"Oh, brother."

* * *

**(The basement, 9:23 a.m. PST)**

Sleep forever eluded Vicky, descending upon her in unsteady drifts. The moment she let it carry her away, it tossed her aside again. This last burst dumped her unceremoniously onto the frigid waters of consciousness. Needless to say, she was _extremely _displeased. Whoever she saw first would pay dearly.

Easing out from under the cozy covers, she tossed them carelessly aside and frowned, finding herself inexplicably alone. In fact, no traces of Mark lingered. Temper flailing; she wobbled over to the counter. She was in her fifth month and irritable as hell. If Mark had indeed abandoned her, he would be very sorry. She just desired an excuse.

Skimming the contents of the letter, she found one.

* * *

**(The treehouse, 9:30 a.m. PST)**

Wanda, tossing and turning, found herself in a set of nightmares involving Cosmo's horrible death at Juandissimo's hands. Every time one ended, another began, offering no respite. Someone tugged at her telepathy, but she ignored it. The tug was far too weak to recognize asleep, but he could not contact her unless she was unconscious. Pent up frustration clenched his fists and teeth.

Finally, after the sixth varying murder, he'd enough. Shoving his dream self aside with a scowl at Juandissimo, he addressed Wanda. At once, all activity within the dream ceased. At long last, he had her attention.

((Do you mind keeping me alive for about ten seconds? I really have to talk to you.))

A wisp of a fairy, translucent but foggy, floated before her. It possessed Cosmo's stature; his green eyes (dull due to his form); and his voice. Either Remy was playing a trick on her, or the little energy Cosmo clung to he'd utilized to speak with her. Stunned, she collapsed on her knees, smacking the marble floor dully. Apparently, her mind, preoccupied with Cosmo's abrupt arrival, left that particular detail out.

((What-! What are you doing here? Cosmo!)) Relief flooded her; maybe the last few days had been a horrid dream. When she awoke, he'd be lying beside her. He was here to tell that soulful Remy was just a miserable teenager. _Sure_, another voice in her mind perked up, _and Vicky will stop being pregnant and Timmy and Tootie will forgive and forget. _

Grinning, she flung herself at him only to pass straight through. Exclaiming in surprise, she jolted around to discover Cosmo, frowning softly. For once, his green eyes somberly regarded her and her heart sank to her stomach. Whatever impelled him to be serious had to be grave indeed. _Perhaps_, that nagging, hateful voice in her head hissed, _he isn't even here for you_. _Maybe he's here because you're the only fairy who can see him this way. _

Despairingly, she peered up into his vast, hollow eyes. Their surroundings melted to nothing and darkness pressed in on all sides. Months ago, she might have embraced this, but a helpless shudder rocked her. Darkness, where Cosmo would fall if she continued stalling for solutions. Darkness, the loss of love eternal.

Picking up on her train of thought, Cosmo nodded gravely. ((You've delayed too long.))

No trace of humor lingered about him. Uncomfortable, she glanced anywhere else, but the void seemingly shoved her eyeballs into her skull. Terrific guilt bore down on her- if she hadn't postponed research and the actual spell, he might be back by now. This was her fault entirely.

((If you don't restore me or discover a spell to contain me in limbo, my soul will be torn apart by Eschcolex, Remy, and Juandissimo. Then I _will _die.))

Stunned, she merely gawked, her mind working very slowly. It was like Cosmo had dumped a thick broth on her brain and clogged the necessary wheels. However, he waited until she processed everything before continuing. It was imperative she understood.

((I believe in you, Wanda…but…beware Remy's interference…))

Abruptly, his spirit dissolved into smoke, then vanished. In the center of nowhere, Wanda fell to her knees and stared up at nothing.

* * *

**Well, I _had _responses to reviews and they were very good. That was before Word quit on me. I have no interest in rewriting them, sorry. Thank you to everyone who reviewed and please continue. **

**The rant, however, remains, so if you are so inclined, read it.**

**

* * *

**

**I thought I'd take a minute out of my "busy" schedule to snap at someone who reviewed chapter five. One might notice it, since it's the topmost review. At any rate, shall we commence?**

**Since no one at this site (if you notice, they remove their name whenever you place it somewhere) ever mentioned quoting a review in a story, here I go. **

**This one is from: **Shane

God... **You seem to be of the incorrect impression I believe in him/her/it.**

Sorry, but I think you made a bad move with the Vicky thing. **The funny thing is I don't think I did. Despite her pregnancy actually deviating from my original intention, her reactions and everything forthwith have been planned for six months. It was hardly a spur of the moment affair. **

You could have let there be alittle sunshine in the story...

**Sunshine in The Other Saga? Really? Does this seem to you the type of story where characters would randomly burst into song? Would you like to see Timmy grinning from ear to ear? Would that be _normal_ for a boy having that past? **

And have you noticed the pace at which things constantly get worse? In TOS **(_Part)_** 1, it was gradual, and by TOS **(_Part)_** 4, it's like a freight train going down hill!

**Oddly enough, being the _author_, I might have noticed a thing or two, yes. And in response, TOS Part One has changed drastically since its conception over two years ago. (Incidentally, for those interested, Part Three's dramatic duel scene at the end was composed during Pirates of the Caribbean's theatrical release. That should give you a decent frame of mind). Although I cannot recall much in the way of the original, Wanda and Cosmo served as slaves for longer, Tootie's life was threatened and Vicky was on the run with her…**

**By the way, Part One would be called (I shall assume you are not familiar with these terms, because you certainly do not seem to be) the rising action and establishment of the basic plot. Each Part has its own rising action, climax, falling action, and resolution, but they work towards the whole series. TOS Part One, being the beginning, would therefore not contain nearly as much darkness as any of its ensuing parts. Part Four, by contrast, would contain the most as it is the climax leading towards falling action and resolution. **

Please, bring some happiness...Cus I'm kind of tired of the whole down hill thing, it's overdone.

**I changed my mind. I'm not fixing your error because I want it to ring as a reminder of someone who cannot spell " 'cuz", not a word itself. **

**At any rate, what would you like to happen? Would you like ponies prancing across the treehouse? Unicorns grazing in Timmy Turner's garden? This to all be a wretched _dream sequence_?**

**I take great umbrage at your "tired of the…" comment as well. I do not read any other stories in this section (unless penned by a friend) and therefore, have not drawn my story from anywhere else. Not to mention the original concept predates any story here. And if you are so weary of that type, then by all means, read another story. I will not miss you.**

Representing the Ever Faithful TOS fanbase **(Yet another non word)**

**Ever faithful? Do not make me laugh. Any true fan of The Other Saga would not have balked at the angst. The only reason I did not remove your review was so others may gaze upon your hypocrisy. **

**You may deem yourself the representative, but you are much like the politicians who claim to work for the people and work only to line their pockets.**


	10. Closer to the Edge

Chapter Ten: Closer to the Edge

Eschcolex eyed his apprentice coldly and folded his demon arms across his chest. Several moments passed before either spoke; it was in those moments he sized up his worth. If he continued to fail abysmally, surely the world would not suffer to see him gone. After all, he subsisted only thanks an ever dwindling patience. Once his soul was devoured, typically the demon washed his hands of humans and fairies. Their emotions revolted him and their overabundance nauseated. Sometimes, he thought he should like a large fly swatter to crush them to the ground they desiccated with their presence.

"You have still not procured the rest of the fairy's soul for me," Eschcolex remarked coolly. He stood in Lorenzo DeMedici's former mansion, now vacant except for the two of them. He found he quite enjoyed the evil resonances as well as the misery he keened from the "training room". While they were but echoes of the past, they titillated him.

"I know, my master," the child formerly known as Remy Buxaplenty murmured, blonde bangs concealing hollow azure eyes. Overly polite in death, but a welcome change from his living, sniveling human personality, he decided. At least animated corpses served dutifully, _usually_. Yet it appeared this one had not gained any brains in the transition. Pathetic.

"A two year old could defeat this one, yet you disappoint me, Remy. In the past, I would have had your head, lackluster though it is. You would not mind- after all; you have no emotions or will to live. In fact, were I to slit your throat right now and end your miserable existence, you might offer a plaintive cry then immediately desist. You are nothing, yet you manage to accomplish less than mortals. What do you have to say for yourself?"

Remy stammered, but he held up a hand to cease him. Dead yammering rarely interested him. The poor dead child had no concept of the rhetorical. Before, that might have amused, now it irked him. He thirsted for souls, especially a fairy's. He had not feasted upon a succulent one in millennia and now his bumbling corpse could not carve out the remainder. This called for drastic measures.

"But perhaps you wish to fail. Perhaps you wish to acquire the soul for yourself, instead of feeding your master. I do not know if thoughts pass through stagnant matter, but I know this. I will give you one more chance to seal the fairy's fate, and then I will intercede. Are we clear?"

Under his breath, Remy muttered inarticulately. Eschcolex ignored him and rose gainfully from his throne. Glaring contemptuously, he strode from the room. He awaited Remy's renewed failure. It would arrive adroitly and then, perhaps, he would have more than what he'd bargained for.

Demonic inner eyes perceived the fairy's wife moving to protect him and he sneered, recognizing a two for one deal. Killing both would not only be easy, but enjoyable. He relished their souls on his tongue. Soon, he would be appeased. Soon…

* * *

(Timmy Turner's kitchen, 8:45 a.m. PST)

_That could have gone better_, Tootie thought bitterly, prodding her half frozen waffles half heartedly with her fork. Beside her, Timmy scowled at his soggy oatmeal, Sophie picked at her doughy pancakes, and Gary, eating nothing, flipped Timmy off under the table. Wanda was nowhere to be seen and due to arguments cropping up, their breakfasts tasted significantly poorer. In fact, if it weren't for the fact she didn't want attention through leaving, she'd chuck her pitiful excuse for waffles straight where they belonged, in the trash.

"This sucks," Timmy snapped, kicking Gary in the shin. Gary retaliated by snatching Tootie's free right hand and shoving their linked hands in his face.

No sooner had he done this than Tootie wrenched hers from his grip and shot him an incredibly dirty look. She had no plans of being a tool in his enduring war against his creator, despite having kissed him the night before. Now that she thought about it, she wasn't entirely certain why she'd done it in the first place. It certainly hadn't made her feel any better in the long run.

Sophie, nose buried in another book, commented minimally. Occasionally, her left hand would fly to her fork, lower a half done product to her mouth, and return to her book. Their argument had disrupted her cooking, causing the fryer to shut off while Gary argued pedantically that Timmy couldn't prepare scrambled eggs. Unfortunately, the imaginary friend happened to be right; the ceiling bore Timmy's ill attempts. Sophie had restrained herself barely from acting out.

Why was it when she went out of her way not to be noticed, her plans were screwed anyway? She hadn't been trying anything, but she'd been punished anyway. That's what she hated about this house- nothing ever worked out for _her_. It sounded terribly selfish, yes, but when your whole world consists of everyone treating you either like a bug on your windshield or a bump on a log, you'd get rather sick of it too.

"_You _suck," Tootie retorted, stabbing her waffles. She pretended they wore Timmy's face. _Half assed, just like him._

The fork scraped against the plate, but she dug it maliciously into the rapidly deteriorating waffle. Gary smirked, Sophie scowled, and Timmy thought swiftly of a nasty retort. She had the distinct impression he wanted to smack it out of her hand. Fine, let him. She'd kick him in the balls if he tried.

Images of Tootie and Gary together flitted through his mind and anger ate away at him. It was back to baseless claims and hurtful things he only half believed. However, lashing out prevented him from thinking about Lorenzo hiding in the mirror and his haunting past. She was his unwilling scapegoat.

"Yeah, right. I bet you gave Gary head last night-" Timmy accused, shoving his chair from the table and dumping the contents of his bowl into the sink. Of course, he might have done better (a), not to decide on a heated food and (b), to discard of it in the can, but he was too focused on his frustration to think clearly. Besides, Wanda would clean this up, wouldn't she? The fact remained no one had seen her since yesterday, but he was sure she'd show. She always did.

"Has anyone seen Wanda?" Sophie interrupted, unconsciously following Timmy's train of thought and finally raising her head. She'd yet to feel any real connection (she liked Tootie slightly more, but only because she sensed clawing responsibility binding her actions and pitied her)- their constant bickering grated her nerves. In irritation, her fingers scraped the sides of her book.

Distracted by Wanda's unexplained absence, Timmy absent mindedly rinsed his bowl and faced Sophie. She glared back, sullen even in the early hours. Now that she mentioned Wanda, she was suddenly important? She couldn't be important on her own?

"I haven't seen her since last night…" he trailed off, oblivious to her narrowed brown eyes. Her diminutive stature reminded him of Wanda, nonetheless. There was something in the sparks her eyes shot at him. It was actually rather unsettling, if Timmy had spared the time to contemplate it.

"Wanda?" He called, but nothing happened. His stomach clenched painfully and he recalled the nightmare. He didn't know what he'd do without Wanda…

"Aw, did my itty-bitty baby creator have a nightmare? Did he dream he went mental and killed everyone-" Gary mocked, a smirk twisting his features. Unconsciously, Tootie scowled. If Timmy's nightmares were anything like hers, they were nothing to joke about.

_Especially like that…he knows as well as we do that he nearly did just that…my poor Timmy. _

_No! I'm **not **sympathetic. He's treated me like shit…and yet the little voice in my head whispers to forgive him…forgive him and hold him tight…_

"It's none of your damn business what I dream about!" Timmy retorted, flushing. The tip of his tongue burned to tell him exactly what, but that meant reliving it to a certain degree. His stomach churned again at the prospect.

_Wanda, where **are **you? Why didn't you answer when I called?_, Timmy thought despairingly. _Please don't ignore me again._

"Or did you dream you finally treated Tootie properly and you woke up screaming?"

Timmy trembled in rage, sneering at his creation. He had no idea what was going on- how _dare _he judge him. Sure, he might have acted irrationally in the past, but now he had a reason behind his behavior. It might not make much sense to anyone but him, but it was a reason nonetheless.

Not to mention his dreams involving Tootie usually included a startling lack of clothing and her velvety voice in his ear…

Tootie suddenly turned scarlet, receiving a glimpse of Timmy's dreams. Before she could stop herself, she whispered via telepathy, ((I'd love to make your dreams reality...))

Sneering back, utterly oblivious to Timmy's erratic glances at Tootie and the heat pouring off her face, Gary roped an arm around her shoulders. She shrugged him off and gazed meaningfully at Timmy, recalling just who this conversation concerned. His cerulean eyes sparkled in anguish, feeling Wanda's dream blood cloak him. Abruptly, he wished he hadn't attempted to eat at all.

"He dreamt about Wanda," Sophie said matter of factly, gently easing out of her own seat to discard of her wasted endeavor. Three sets of eyes burned holes into her back. Lamentably, she realized she ought to have kept that information to herself. The others already disliked her- she didn't want them to think she could read their thoughts or anything like that.

_But do I care if they like me or not? I'm not sure if they treat people they like any differently than they treat each other…_

"No, I didn't!" Timmy lied, not meeting Sophie's eyes or anyone else's. He leaned against the fridge and glared at everyone as if they alone were responsible. Better them than him.

Gary produced no smart aleck replies. In fact, he simply gawked at Sophie, bristling under the newfound attention. Why was it the only time anyone paid her any mind was when she uttered something so obvious, they ought to have discovered it themselves? Why must she parade around Captain Obvious and spell things out?

Silence buzzed; Sophie did not care to elaborate on said dream, Timmy prayed she wouldn't, Gary puzzled his sudden vapidity, and Tootie's arms ached for Timmy. Five minutes passed and finally, Tootie spoke.

"Hey, guys, where's Wanda? Timmy called her and she never came."

Charily, Tootie approached him until they were but a half a foot apart. His eyes widened, but one of his hands brushed hers purposefully. They both accidentally sent an image of him holding her and jumped.

"She's supposed to come, isn't she?" Sophie murmured, perplexed. She scrutinized Timmy and Tootie and finally ignored them, since they confused the hell out of her anyway. Why were people so preoccupied with protecting themselves that they blocked everyone out? It wasn't just them…it was Wanda too. Maybe she was too young and naïve to understand any better, but she thought if the problem got this bad, they should seek help.

Gary glowered at everyone and wished them (excepting Tootie) nothing but ill. If _he _had telepathy with Timmy, he'd show him exactly what he'd put him through if he could. Then again, that would ruin the surprise. _Stupid bratty Tim-Tim never appreciates anything._

_But where could Wanda be? _Sophie, Tootie, and Timmy wondered simultaneously. _And why leave without a word?_

If they thought they would have all day to solve this conundrum, they were quite mistaken. Seconds later, angry footsteps pounded on the basement stairs and the door was flung open with gusto. All shifted in her direction. The morning had just taken another step towards the worse.

"Where's Wanda?" Vicky hissed, practically foaming at the mouth. Innately, Tootie retreated into Timmy, Sophie backed into the table, but Gary remained stationary. He didn't fear her like the others. He figured himself relatively invulnerable, thanks to his charms and general coolness. She wouldn't _dare _touch him.

_If we knew where she was, then we wouldn't have to ask, would we? _Sophie thought, but kept her mouth firmly shut. Vicky petrified her and through experience, she'd developed a plan that worked fairly well. Stay quiet and stay out of sight. It worked with most bullies, at any rate. And Vicky was by far the largest bully she'd ever had the unpleasantness to meet.

"Why do you care?" Timmy replied icily, wrapping his arms around Tootie's waist and pressing her against him. Tootie sighed happily, delighted their mutual image had come true. If only he could clutch her like this when her sadistic sister _wasn't _on the rampage…that might be a different story.

The funny thing was, Sophie wasn't certain Timmy knew exactly what he was doing. He'd just accused her of being a slut again and yet here he was, cradling her to him. She'd never understand boys. Maybe when she grew up, she'd have the fortune of celibacy.

Yanking a folded, battered piece of paper out of her back pocket, she slammed it down on the table (Sophie squeaked and backed into the wall). She then glared as though they understood exactly what she was furious about. Naturally, none did. She growled (Sophie imagined her snorting flames) and rounded on Timmy, since Wanda was _his _godmother.

"Do you know what this is?" Vicky snarled, brandishing it and shoving it in his face. Timmy's grip on Tootie tightened, but his cerulean eyes flashed defiantly.

"A piece of paper you keep forcing on me even though I don't give a shit?" Timmy fired back, one of his hands roaming Tootie's hair. She shut her eyes and pressed her lips against his cheek.

"_Wrong_! This is all your stupid fairy godmother's fault! If she hadn't given Mark advice, then he wouldn't be job hunting right now!" Vicky snarled, half stomping, half wobbling away. The display might have been comical if anyone had the audacity to laugh. Gary admired himself in a mirror he brandished from an inside pocket of his pocket; both looked exceedingly bored. Sophie thought she would be too if she had to look at his conceited face constantly.

_I can't believe I almost had a crush on him and…I wonder if dragons get this bitchy when they're pregnant…_

"Hey!" Timmy shouted, causing Tootie to wish she wasn't right on top of him. She'd forgotten his penchant for reducing hearing. At least he wasn't yelling at _her_, for once.

"Don't insult Wanda! She was just trying to help!"

"This is her damn fault! If I wanted Mark to get a job, I would have told him! He had no business-"

"Having a mind of his own? Using free will?" Tootie muttered, eyes narrowed. "I wasn't under the impression that was illegal."

Rounding on Tootie, she spat in her face (Timmy shook in rage) and then pivoted. If none of them were going to pull Wanda from their sleeves, she wasn't interested. She'd rather spend her time berating Mark for leaving her than deal with these twerps, anyway. Her footsteps echoed, but aside from their breathing and her muttered threats, no other sound was made.

"Where the hell _is _Wanda, anyway?" Timmy asked, wiping Tootie's cheek.

* * *

(Fairy World library)

Thousands of books, all useless. None of them told her a single thing other than how much they wasted time and tried her patience. She'd been here for hours and found absolutely nothing. Even as she conceded defeat with one tome, she retrieved another. If she kept searching, something had to come up. It just had to.

Fairies buzzed around; occasionally, she caught snippets of telepathy and inwardly seethed. The reminder redoubled her efforts and she was already in over her head with encyclopedias, reference books, and thousands of others. If anyone wished to spot her, they would have to dive bomb ten feet of pages. At least the pile prevented curiosity and distractions. None bothered pierce her defense.

The problem was her real answer lay in a place she'd rather avoid. No self respecting fairy library would contain such tomes, but she had hoped (rather foolishly) someone might have referenced the banned books. No such luck, unfortunately. Authors skirted the issue to the point where she thought they might spontaneously combust if they as much as mentioned souls torn asunder. Whatever the case, her patience wore dreadfully thin.

To make matters worse, some of Juandissimo's fans had popped in to discuss his death in loud, dulcet tones. They spoke as if he were a saint instead of an asshole. Though most knew only the barest details, some went as far as to condemn Cosmo for his death. Wanda had ground her teeth, dug her nails into her palms, anything to shut herself up. She honestly didn't trust herself to speak.

Growling in frustration, Wanda shoved a stack of books away to settle on another. A quick skim spell with her wand told her exactly what every other book she'd examined had- nada. She banged her head against the desk, but only produced a mild headache. Goddamn it! Would she really have to return to Lorenzo's library?

((Hurry….))

Sighing, lethargic, Wanda reluctantly waved her wand once more to return the items to their proper shelves. If she had to visit Lorenzo's mansion, then she would. Never mind that it probably attracted heinous dark creatures; she had to bring him back. She just had to…and she was going to do it by herself…

* * *

(The Void)

Free, only buoyed by the annoying tug of telepathy, Cosmo's soul lingered. The void, where all lost souls remained, perhaps for eternity, currently claimed him. Darkness pressed in from all corners, but, occasionally, another empty being materialized and clutched at him, threatening to drag him with them. Only Wanda induced the will to fend after himself. Otherwise, he might succumb to the vastness of oblivion.

Though he couldn't prove it, he sensed Juandissimo's soul lay here, along with the echoes of all the other souls Eschcolex had destroyed. When Wanda slept, her nightmares rocked him and Juandissimo crooned. Slim emotion registered within, but enough for disgust. However, while he disdained Juan, he could not pity Wanda. Only one emotion existed simultaneously with his pale figure. Sensations were taxing.

Yet he'd longed to cradle her in his arms and kiss away her tears, hidden though they were. If only he could hold onto such emotions, then he might not lose himself completely. If only he remembered what it was like to live on the surface, without darkness pressing in. If only he remembered what life itself was like…

At once, voices clamoring for escape sobbed, caterwauled, and pleaded for salvation. Voices echoed and reverberated, inducing unpleasant shivers when he'd first arrived. Then again, when he'd first arrived, he'd not the faintest clue what was going on. He thought he was dead…although even now, he wasn't sure if he wasn't, in fact, just like them.

He'd soon lost count of time, but they repeated at odd intervals. Since his emotions ebbed when Wanda was particularly far away, he'd learned not to pity them. Most of those crying deserved this fate. They'd damned themselves.

"Remy…Remy…I have lost you too…_Curse _you, Cosmo…"

A poignantly familiar voice rang out and Cosmo scowled dimly. He couldn't remember why (because Wanda was in Fairy World and the bond strained), but he disliked him immensely. Like the others, his voice irritated, but Cosmo disliked him only as long as he could contain that emotion. It lasted less than a minute and left him more hollow than before.

He wondered idly if Wanda would succeed in reviving him. Would he be too far gone to live again? Would he even remember her by the time she accomplished it? How much longer did he have?

"My Cosmo-lolo…"

Mama Cosma wailed, having died mysteriously two years previously (The Other's flux in power had triggered magical bursts destroying random fairies Timmy knew). Out of the emptiness beside him, a translucent hand latched onto his arm. Cosmo tugged back viciously, more terrified of losing his bond with Wanda than he dared admit. Wanda kept him centered in the real world, not purgatory.

_I guess I don't really want to die…_

((Wanda!))

Telepathy scorched her and she retreated with a hiss into the shadows. Magic burned here- the positive in a world of negatives. Cosmo himself was scarcely positive because he was barely alive. All the other shades, conversely, maintained the negative status of purgatory.

"Timmy…"

Two spirits screeched into the din, the pearly versions of Mr. and Mrs. Turner. The instant he relinquished his mother's grasp, they journeyed past; they too quested for a way out. Yet as time passed (and stayed horribly the same), he began to doubt its existence. Maybe Wanda would never recover him…maybe he was doomed to rest here eternally…

"Vicky! Vicky, come back!"

A girl with long, plaited braids down her back and the every nuance of an older Tootie drifted aimlessly by, a scythe buried in her back. Vestiges of power clung and gave off a faint glimmer. Cosmo was almost sorry to see her vanish- the light reminded him there were other worlds out there. There were other people, too…and creatures like Wanda who loved him deeply. He only wished his thoughts wouldn't teeter back and forth to doubt then hope.

"He wasn't human…"

Translucent like the rest, a rather befuddled Principal Waxelplax meandered away. She continued to mutter about fairies, evil creatures, and demons until he no longer heard her. Cosmo shrugged, caring little. Everyone had a story to tell, but none had presence of mind to describe themselves adequately. They simply hadn't substance to either speak or listen.

"We never told her we loved her…"

"_Did _we love her?"

Vicky and Tootie's parents ambled along the same path as the others and continued their diatribe until they too floated from earshot. Apparently, somewhere along the line, they forgot exactly who they were discussing, because neither recalled which daughter was the "evil" one. In fact, they started to doubt whether they had children or were married in the first place. The void wreaked havoc on past lives and memories. Soon, the spirits themselves became their surroundings. They succumbed to the darkness they traveled listlessly in.

"Dirty, rotten bastard!"

Disfigured, half of his face scarred beyond recognition, Gifoalski irately blithered onward. Though he'd long since forgotten most of his life, he remembered his death and the circumstances surrounding it clearly. Names faded, but he knew this much- he'd been murdered. Unfortunately, he no longer recalled he was powerless, he randomly struck the air. Cosmo narrowly avoided a cruel uppercut.

An old lady, fragile and feeble, followed like her predecessors. For some bizarre reason, seeing her made Cosmo think of stuffy rabbits wearing monocles. When she drifted by, he wondered idly why she felt so alone. There was a second half she didn't have and momentarily, he puzzled over it. Many spirits idled singularly- why should this one strike him as unusual? And who on earth was Mr. Herriman, anyway?

The bewilderment (as well as his attention span) drifted and he found himself face to face with a pale, shimmering version of his Wanda. Blankly, now confused more than he'd ever been here, he stared. Nothing clicked; he stared endlessly. Why was she here? What was going on?

"I am the part of Wanda's soul she cannot retrieve. I am what Juandissimo has rampaged, pilfered, and trod upon. Call me what you will, I believe I can help you.

"You have thus maintained a feeble link to her and it must improve drastically or you will fall to the darkness beyond. Your request for her aid means nothing without your guidance. Only you can identify the proper spell for your return- she cannot by herself. You must rise and become less than a ghost, but more than the soulless child.

"You must help her…you are her shining hope."

The figure faded, replaced by an urgent shove. Cosmo felt himself being propelled upwards, to what he could not say. Darkness above and darkness beyond, he might not be going anywhere at all. He had no way of knowing.

"Remember- the dead never truly leave us. Purgatory is for those souls who deserve to remain shadows, forever doomed to haunt our nightmares and for those who refuse to pass on, not the living. Unless you wish to share the fate of the shades, you will help your beloved. She needs you more than can be expressed through words alone."

* * *

**(The employment office)**

Mark Chang absent-mindedly pounded on the back of his chair. The others awaiting an interview cast him dirty looks, but he was far too nervous to care. They were normal, boring humans. He was an alien outcast from Yugopotamia who couldn't distinguish South Park from the Powerpuff Girls. They'd grown up here and knew nothing else- when it came to experience, he was sunk.

But it was better to try and be turned away…than to spend the rest of his day in Vicky's company, listening to her toss threats and insults out like crap at a garage sale. He wondered if she was supposed to hate him this much now, or if there was something wrong. Part of him thought it was the typical Yugopotamian courting ritual (Tootie and Timmy helped those thoughts), but then…he didn't know. He really had absolutely no idea.

"Chang?"

It took him several seconds to recall this was his human name and a few more to rise. He hoped he would succeed; he wasn't sure he could endure much more of Vicky's taunts and insinuations. Alien or not, there was something unsettling about them.

* * *

"You have made a grievous error, fairy," a voice echoed around the seemingly empty library and Wanda unconsciously clutched her wand to her chest. Though the words held no liveliness, it was this absence that most troubled her. An insurmountable fury quaked her body, but stilled her tongue. She had no idea what she was getting herself into.

Poofing to the top shelves, she scanned the titles furtively, hoping against hope she'd find exactly what she sought and in post haste. Sure, Remy was basically an animated corpse, but if he worked for Eschcolex, she had to expect tricks up his sleeve. Demons never played by the rules, especially if they were as enraged as Wanda was willing to bet he was. Failure sickened them to no end.

Footsteps sounded at the end of the aisle; she poofed away, her normally humming wand silent. In fact, the poof had depleted her energy more than she dared admit. Eschcolex had not needed to implement any new magical devices because Lorenzo's defense against fairies had been renewed. Magic would only pain her here.

Biting back a sigh, she scanned the perimeters for a hiding spot only to come up dry. Perhaps if she transformed herself, but then that bit of magic would probably be her last until someone rescued her. Only in a dire emergency would she utilize magic, even if it meant protecting her in the short run. Supposing no one realized she was here (and, quite frankly, who would?), she'd be signing her own death warrant. No, if she were to outmaneuver her opponent, it had to be thoroughly non magical.

Darting into a pile of books Lorenzo must have used to train Timmy to murder them (she shuddered involuntarily); her pink eyes peered out at the rapidly approaching incubus Remy. She held her breath, praying his sight decreased due to his prolonged half life. Beside her, her wand died entirely, sputtering, fizzing, and then spitting to halt. Grand, so she was defenseless against a demon protégé, in enemy territory, and armed with a body the size of a ten year old human. She was screwed.

_But why come after **me**? While I'm here, Cosmo's unguarded. Unless he's figured out the final link to his soul is in our telepathy…_

Remy paused dully, straining to listen to instructions only he could hear. Up close, she noted Eschcolex maintained his body carelessly. His complexion was ashen, his eyes glazed, and his steps jerky, like a remote controlled robot. Now that she thought about it, she actually pitied him. While she could hardly say she made acquaintances with reanimated corpses on a regular basis, she knew Eschcolex pulled all the strings here. Remy was no more responsible for stealing Cosmo's soul than she for breathing.

"There!" a low gravelly voice announced, annoyance etched in its declaration. The color drained from Wanda's face as Remy pivoted in her direction and peered unseeingly at her hiding space. She wondered just how much information his stagnant brain processed- he continued to stare for five minutes.

Irritated, the demon materialized, toting a wine glass in his clawed right hand. At first glance, she deemed it Chardonnay, but then its fluidity assured her otherwise. Ugh- was he a demon or a vampire? Did it really matter right now?

"As usual, you have managed to bungle even the simplest assignments. Spare me your drivel; I have your work to attend to."

Attempting unsuccessfully to staunch her anxiety, she swiveled her head a fraction of an inch. A presence, not like anything she'd ever met, settled beside her. Whispery fingers stroked her cheek, but the effort of touch cost him a physical shape. She swallowed hard, unable to determine whether this was Cosmo…or someone far less welcome. That'd be the straw that broke the camel's back.

Leering at her woeful protection, he spared her a moment before shoving the books to the floor. They clattered, papery pages protesting. A cold chill coursed down her spine, but beside her, the presence seemingly stiffened. Light poured in from an open window and aided her only slightly in her perception. He was too wispy for a ghost, yet too structured for a gust.

"I might have thought you'd come here," he intoned, gesturing towards the shelves stocked full of information she longed for. A nearly inaudible growl escaped the being, its focus upon her wand. Wanda swiftly switched it to her other hand, whereupon the creature whispered objection.

"My apprentice was supposed to procure the rest of your _soul mate's_," (he spat the last two words), "soul. Yet he has failed me once again and he shall be justly punished. You, on the other hand, will not live to see your godchildren again."

((You can't fight him…you have to get out of here.)) Cosmo whispered and she froze, a thousand questions soaring through her mind. She wanted to ask why he hadn't spoken before, where his soul was right now, and why he'd chosen this moment to appear. Was he the spirit beside her? Was he here to protect her?

((Cosmo! How-))

((Never mind that! I'll explain later! There's a gap in the barrier right behind the next bookcase- float there and poof out.))

((I-))

((I don't have enough energy to waste talking to you,)) he snapped, uncharacteristically brusque. She sighed, recalling her own reactions when her memories and indeed part of her soul had been missing. She didn't begrudge him a little coldness, but it troubled her nonetheless. Mentally, she noted to ask him later.

An energy ball sizzled the air around her and, without further delay; she floated swiftly away, ducking behind a stack of books. Never before had she felt quite so exposed, especially with Eschcolex practically breathing down her neck. At least with Lorenzo, for the most part she'd been armed with her wand or Cosmo. Being trapped without magic felt like losing an appendage. She was floating in enemy territory and she outnumbered, unless you counted a semi spirit.

"I do _not _play cat and mouse like that insipid anti fairy. Come out and come out now, before I decide to snap your neck now and ask questions later."

Sweat trickled down her neck; she threw herself headlong into the section feeling slightly more amiable than the rest of the room. Cosmo, scarcely a phantom, managed a feeble nod and she raised her wand. Eschcolex and Remy, sluggishly meandering, approached from either side. She only hoped she had enough magic to transport herself out of here.

"_Fairy_!" The demon growled a split second before she vanished and snatched only thin air.

Safe…for now.

* * *

In front of the "mysterious" downstairs mirror

Lorenzo DeMedici loathed confinement. Naturally, he found himself imprisoned constantly by an infernal mirror. Lorenzo DeMedici loathed distance from his beloved. Naturally, he was forbidden to touch him. Lorenzo DeMedici was barricaded within an invisible shield barricading him from the rest of humanity. Naturally, he found a way through.

Now he glared at his jail for so many months and, pausing only to flip it off, sauntered happily through Timmy Turner's front door. Wanda, usually quite thorough in magical defenses, had slipped up. She'd left a great gap in the end, between the walls, and it only took someone of his slim stature to ease his way through. Of course, he hardly wondered why she'd neglected it. As far as he was concerned, one never looked a gift horse in the mouth. It was time to see how the town took his disappearance.

The heat was blistering, but it served to remind Lorenzo he was _alive_. In fact, the warmth from the sun on his black turtleneck and his cloak pleased him greatly. (Though his all black, winter attire did cause raised eyebrows and snickers.) He might get a sun burn, but he was alive and out of that damn mirror. Exhilaration raced through him and, childlike, he ran through the streets.

By the time he reached the playground, however, he found himself desiring a break. He descended upon a swing and watched a small group of girls discussing their latest crush. One, throwing her long hair back from her face, he recognized instantly. He craned his neck and, being a nosy busybody, listened in.

"Did you hear about R.D.?" Pauline murmured, donning a hat with his face on it. The other girls nodded eagerly and, after casting a surreptitious look at Lorenzo, adroitly stepped several paces further away.

"Doesn't that look like our old principal?" one muttered, to the nods of the others. "He's so creepy."

"I can't believe I used to like him." Pauline replied, gathering her girls and trooping them almost out of earshot. "I must have been overdosing on cold medicine."

Though he knew they'd thought him dead and thus moved on, it upset him to hear them discuss in such careless tones. They continued on, whispering excitedly about R.D.'s new album and his love song to apparently no one. They wondered who the girl was until Lorenzo, sick of their insipid gossip, strode by them. He hadn't come out to listen to annoying teenagers (nor to hear how no one cared for him).

"Loser!" Pauline shouted after his retreating figure and he resisted the urge to flip her off. Instead, he shuffled off, walking the familiar path to his mansion. Somehow, he sensed dark magic transpiring inside. Though he no longer participated in it, he knew who did.

He found her outside, unconscious and accompanied by a pesky spirit who threatened to bite his hands despite possessing no actual figure. The voice, echoing, he recalled instantly. Though he would have liked to ask what the hell was going, he refrained. Wanda wasn't going to escape her on her own and if she remained, Eschcolex would track her down and destroy them both. (He had to remind Cosmo he couldn't drag her away himself).

Then, with a sharp gust of wind, Cosmo vanished, leaving Wanda and Lorenzo alone. Wanda moaned, tears forming in her eyes; he swooped down, cradled her in his arms, and carried her home. He personally didn't care if Cosmo never appeared again, since he was competition anyway. Although Wanda's personal happiness weighed heavily on Cosmo's subsistence…

She rolled over in his arms and he pressed her lightly into his chest. She was so soft, like silk, and a giddy thrill coursed through him. He forced himself to focus on returning home, not what he'd like to do to/with her in this state. Wanda wouldn't like it if he used his newfound liberties to cause the same trouble. But she was so close…

She wouldn't notice if he brushed his lips over hers…

And Lorenzo did just that.

* * *

**And the plot thickens! Heh, this was not what I had in mind for that end scene. **

**I'm still not in the mood to respond to reviews (or am I lazy, hmm?). So I'd like to thank MisterBlue, "towo", Sentra, ahhelga, Ruby, Acastus of Thessaly, and Wanda Wish.**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed and please continue! **

**Until we meet again…**


	11. Unexpected Repercussions

Disclaimer: I apologize for the apparent lack of interest in TOS lately. I've been busy and the other things I'm writing, mostly Foster's, are a lot easier to do because they're shorter. Also, I've been getting away from FOP. Still, I think my interest might be rekindled because this isn't going according to plan. That's actually good.

Oh, and Lorenzo might be mine as well as Sophie, but FOP is Butch Hartman, may he rot in pieces.

Chapter Eleven: Unexpected Repercussions

There were dreams and then there were _dreams_, the ones that made you whimper longingly and clutch your pillow to your chest like squeezing it tightly might make it so. Tootie currently performed both adroitly, sighing and clenching her eyes shut. If she just pretended for an instant nothing had gone wrong and his arms enveloped her, she might attain some sanity. Unfortunately, the alarm buzzed annoyingly and Timmy's obnoxiously argumentative voice filled what little the buzzer didn't cover. Between the two, she thought she might go deaf.

_That could be a blessing_, Tootie thought, throwing aside her lilac bedsheets (the Timmy covered ones lay buried in her chest). The birds chirped annoyingly and she contemplated throwing a pillow at the window. Then again, the likelihood of birds silencing thanks to her rediscovery of the real world remained exceedingly unlikely. Besides, the morning fae had come to greet her and talking to Cal and Daniela beat conversing with her estranged lover. If he intimated she slept with half of Dimmsdale again, she might ensure he never had kids.

"Have any good dreams?" Cal inquired meekly, listening to Timmy scold everything from poor Sophie to the blasted door. Daniela's violet eyes flashed warningly and she seized a translucent version of the transistor. It fizzed, sparked, and then died in her hands. Ghosts wielded no weapons.

"Or did straight boy with the queer eye interrupt them all by accusing you of starting World War II? When I get my body back, he'll be _sorry_…" she muttered, brandishing her pathetic device. It lay prone in her ghastly appendages and Cal sighed while Tootie looked on, amused. At least Daniela possessed more fire in her pinky than Cal contained in his entire, er, spirit.

At that moment, Timmy Turner, the rude little bastard he was, burst in unannounced and glared around, as if expecting Gary to jump out of the closet. Heh, out of the closet, that was a laugh. She _wished _he'd dwell in there and locate some guy to share his hiding hole. It'd be one less problem and right now, alleviation suited her well.

"Where is he?" Timmy snapped, continually scanning the perimeter. Meanwhile, lurking in the corner, Cal and Daniela observed him coolly, the latter flipping him off. When he discovered nothing, she flipped him off again and blew a raspberry. Timmy's head jerked in that direction, but, unable to see them, spun back to regard her.

"Where's _who_?" Tootie retorted, folding her arms across her chest then swiftly lamenting her decision. On a rare impulse, she'd thrown on a very revealing red silk nightgown cut like a V. When he gazed at her, his eyes burned straight to her cleavage. She wanted to snap his head back and shove his eyes into his brain; the old ire returned full swing. How could someone she loved so dearly and deeply eviscerate her like a demon?

"Gary," he retorted like she lacked the intellect of Cosmo's pet rock. Slamming the door shut behind him, he stepped forward into the room and commenced turning over any and every object he fell across. Books, binders, and her old school texts (Cal had yet to discover a way to return them short of breaking and entering) amassed on her quilted sheets; her transistor quaked on its bureau. Stupidity knows no bounds- and if Timmy honestly believed she hid his imaginary friend under a paperback novel, he was indeed the stupidest creature she had ever met.

"He's not _here_," she snarled, yanking him up by his loathsome pink collar. At the moment, she loathed everything about him, including those disdainful buck teeth. A cruel smirk flitted across her face at the notion they somehow rooted in his brain and impaired his thinking skills. Two identical bite marks in his gray matter led him to accuse her of lewdness and mutilated his love into hatred.

"Liar! You're always with him!" he charged, falling to his knees to investigate the underside of her bed. She yearned to kick him beneath, but resisted the temptation. Resentment wormed its way into her heart and narrowed her eyes to slits. One swift kick might mean the world of difference to Timmy Turner's outlook, but unless provoked further, she'd restrain herself.

Opening drawers (since when could Gary shapeshift into a pair of panties?) and finally, her closet, he thrust his nose sorely where it didn't belong. Instead of kicking him under the bed, perhaps she ought to lock him in the closet. After all, when she was nine, he'd done the same thing to her. And she hadn't been half as intrusive and abusive as he was acting currently.

"Yes, Timmy, he's in my bra drawer. Why wouldn't he be? I'm sure an imaginary friend the size of a human could _easily _fit between my silky drawers and my under-wire bras. Why don't you check in the ant mound too, outside? If he can turn into a bra, there's no _end _to his capabilities," Tootie snapped, thoroughly fed up with him.

Mouth agape, Timmy halted mid search and gawked at her. Striding forward purposefully, she balled her fists and gritted her teeth. How tempting it was to shove him inside and lock him in, ne'er to disturb her again. Maybe a few weeks in solitude would do him a world of good. (Nonetheless, the instant she considered this, her heart informed her she could never be so cruel. She'd unlock him after a few hours, if he delivered an apology).

Daniela snorted inaudibly, relishing his idiocy. Intangible, she waved her useless wand at unlikely places, including the back of her bookshelf and the radiator vent. She cackled mirthfully, indicating Gary might have become an air wave or the fly zooming around Timmy's head. Cal merely rolled his eyes, ignoring her.

Not deigning a response, Timmy stomped on a Kenny doll (Daniela crooned- "Oh, my God, they killed Kenny! You bastards!") and shoved the door closed. He then cast a contemptuous look, kicked a history book into the adjacent wall, and then proceeded to slam her door so loudly, her ears rang. Briefly, she contemplated starting yet another disagreement, then changed her mind. Instead, she snatched a book, ripped it open and hoped like Sophie words would steal her from this world.

**…**

Sophie glanced up, immersed in yet another thick tome, to discover a small pink fairy, her fairy godmother, floating hesitantly before her. Her wand hung loosely in her right hand and she bore every sign of spending the entire night awake. Once again, Sophie pitied her. Would Wanda never find any relief? What plagued her now?

Then she spotted it and, blinking in confusion, she focused her mind only to arrive at the same conclusion. A wispy but tenacious tendril linked her to another being trailing her, but not even aided by supernatural powers permitted her to name it. The link's color glistened green; she bit her lip then decided to ask Wanda. After all, she was new, inexperienced with magic. Wanda surely comprehended more of the world's mysteries than her.

"Hi, sweetie," Wanda greeted feebly, resting on her sheets. She descended and the being settled beside her. Sophie stared, unable to determine the smoky outline. Though she'd spent the last few days voraciously reading up on her powers and devouring any helpful information, she was, as she'd stated, a novice. However, if Wanda noted her perplexed expression, she said nothing.

"You haven't slept," Sophie replied simply, lying low on her stomach to fetch another tome. Its girth caused her more exertion than she expected and she nearly fell head over heels off the bed. Ah, the disadvantages of being young, but diminutive. Then again, the book itself contained upwards of two thousand pages. It was the Ancient Magick Compendium and if it led her astray, then nothing could else stood a chance.

Scanning her room, Wanda glanced at the books cramming every notch in her conjured bookshelf. Ones unable to fit piled atop and by the floor were more, to the point where half of Sophie's room held books. Since Wanda (or anyone else, for that matter) had never known the Turners to read, the effect was startling. Still, Wanda rather wished Sophie didn't feel the need to bury herself in books.

"You look like you have half of Lorenzo's library in here, honey," Wanda said gently, motioning grandly towards her "modest" collection. To her surprise, the small girl nodded emphatically and grinned. In the companionship of books, she never felt alone. Their dusty pages whispered mystical secrets only she deciphered. Though they were mere books to others, immaterial and ineffectual, they were her only friends.

Beaming, she proceeded to point out each and every one and its prominent (or faded) title. Wanda gawked; aware she'd recited their titles, some of them without even glancing in the same direction. Her anxiety increased. Holing herself up in her room was hardly healthy, especially to the point where she rarely submerged to communicate.

"And here's Detailed Demonology-" Sophie began, staring at the undisguised longing on Wanda's face. Inwardly, she debated whether to merely extract it sans explanation or let her goddaughter in. Outwardly, she offered her a weak smile and eyed it. Sophie sighed, gently placing it down on the blue carpeted floor and sitting Indian-style to open it.

"You want to stop that demon who stole Cosmo's soul, don't you?" She inquired and leafed through the pages. Far too much was in French and she understood too little. Among Lorenzo's collection was _not _a French-English dictionary, lamentably. Therefore, she wisely refrained from chanting the spells lest she find herself unable to deal with the consequences.

Sighing, sitting next to her, she nodded. The spirit hovered over her back, but just as she began to pinpoint its possible person, it disappeared. Sophie stared blankly and Wanda bit her lip. Far be it for her to intrude, curiosity unhinged her jaw and loosened her tongue. Words tumbled out before she capped her inquisitive nature.

"Who's that spirit by you? Why did I see a link between you two? Is that Cosmo? Don't you think it's a bit _dangerous _to attack a demon? Fairies have been killed that way! Where were you last night? How come when Timmy called you at dinner, you didn't answer? Why can Lorenzo leave the mirror now? How-" Sophie blurted, the questions somersaulting out. In fact, if Wanda hadn't silenced her through a spell, she might have continued incoherently. Startled, she clutched her inoperative throat.

"Sophie, I love you dearly, but every time we meet, you ask me more questions than _anyone _can answer," she replied, chuckling softly. "You need to slow _down_, child."

Sighing, good humor evanescing, she frowned lightly. Folding her arms across her chest, she glanced once at the book and then met her goddaughter's eyes. She could tell her chances to examine that book at length were evaporating like the levity, but to prevent another question waterfall, she had to let her in. Besides, her last question unnerved her. Fingers drummed her wooden wand and next few seconds, they were the only source of noise in the room other than their breathing.

"Lorenzo _can't _leave the mirror," Wanda murmured, now questioning her barrier. What if it hadn't been strong enough? What if because he could leave, Timmy got hurt? Nerves twisted and her stomach clenched painfully. That was the last thing she needed, for Timmy to hate her again. Lorenzo was _her _fault and _her _responsibility.

Waving her wand, she gave her back the power of speech. Unfortunately, that ensured she might be subjected to another hurricane speech, but she panicked now. What if because of Cosmo's absence, her magic had somehow suffered? When Timmy was ten and they separated briefly, her magic abilities plummeted. Could it be possible an anti fairy devoid of any real powers still possessed the ability to deteriorate her spells? Did that mean Cosmo was more at risk than ever before? What if she wasn't strong enough to protect _him_, either?

"I saw him leaving the house," she replied, placing a hand on Wanda's white knuckles. The pink fairy sized her up before deciding not to detail her quarrels. Lorenzo was _her _responsibility and if her spell hadn't been strong enough, she had to do something about that. Sophie had no part in this quandary. In fact, she had little role in this whole scene. If Juandissimo had not erred, she wouldn't be here at all.

"I'll be back," Wanda whispered; she was uncertain whether she would keep her word, however. Hugging her briefly, she poofed to the mirror. Lorenzo had better have a good excuse…and Timmy had better be in perfect health.

**…**

Lorenzo DeMedici lounged on Timmy's couch and casually flicked through endless bad programming. An advertisement for a boy with a tangible imaginary friend interested him, but the show clearly contained too little bloodshed. That girl's voice sounded familiar, somehow. He frowned, trying to place her. Someone very familiar, someone he'd spent a lot of time with…

Sighing, unable to come up with a name, he happened upon another show involving eight year olds, but this one sounded much more promising. He observed coolly, listening to ethnic slurs and cursing. Smirking, he decided this was probably the best animated show on and settled in for the long haul. At least there were no creatures named after colors.

"So Sophie _was _right," Wanda remarked sadly and seized the remote. Four boys residing in Colorado disappeared and she floated sideways in front of him. A smirk crossed his face and he folded his arms across his chest. This might prove more interesting than anything else.

"Why, hello, Wanda. What brings you here?" he inquired, smirking. His gargantuan body took up the entire couch stretched out and his feet hung over the edge. Long brown hair flowed down to his waist and over the side of the couch. He lay flat on his back.

_And I see you have no recollection I rescued you from Eschcolex yesterday. Ah, well. Then again, you **were **unconscious for a good six hours. I suppose my kiss simply put you under a spell, _he thought, smirking, and slapped the black cable remote on his washboard stomach. Wanda glared at him, but he saw past her facade. He saw the exhausted, devastated fairy she truly was and how he could help her. And by help, he meant convince her to see things his way.

"How did you get out?" Wanda snapped, her voice low but threatening. Lorenzo reached out lazily with one finger and stroked a wing. Fairy dust rubbed off on his finger and Wanda froze in midair, her pink eyes wide and disbelieving. Slowly she spun around to face him completely.

"I thought you liked that," he snickered. "Or am I doing it wrong? The last time, you were moaning."

Color draining from her face, she reared her hand back and slapped Lorenzo across the face. Though that was not quite the reaction he desired, it jolted him back to his senses. After stealing one kiss, he'd gotten too cocky. A dim shadow flitting around her released a nearly inaudible growl and, to Lorenzo's trained ears, it sounded almost like Cosmo.

"You haven't changed a bit, _The Other_," she replied icily and her term for him was like another slap. Like a small child, he glanced down and fidgeted. Pauline and her fangirls had forgotten all about him and in their disloyalty, he wanted a spot of normalcy. Ego trips helped him recover from his hubris.

Pounding, ear throbbing music commenced from upstairs and Lorenzo smiled weakly despite himself. That'd be Timmy after another rejection and, on cue, even louder music blasted from Tootie's room. It was a small wonder all three of them didn't deafen themselves. Sophie, squealing, darted out with a book more suitable as a weapon and, after nearly tripping down the stairs, spurted out the door. Lorenzo watched her passively and wondered how long it'd be until she tripped over her own feet and the book sailed through the air to knock someone out. With relish, he rather hoped it was that damned Pauline.

Waving her wand at once, the noise ceased. Doubtlessly, Tootie and Timmy now peered over their stereos and wondered where the earsplitting racket had disappeared to. The smile broadened as he recalled when Timmy wished the world were mute. At least then, they couldn't argue outwardly. Telepathy sailed over his head anyway.

"Does Timmy know?" she whispered, glancing at the stairwell. Five seconds later, he appeared and opened his mouth to scold Wanda when his eyes fell upon Lorenzo. This time, her face turned the color of sour milk and she descended onto the couch. Not another argument…

Voice low and dangerous, he growled at her, "I _hate _you. You let him out of that damn mirror and now he can do whatever he wants to me. This is all your damn fault and I hope you burn for it, frach."

Lorenzo jumped to her aid before she could even verbalize a response. In several short strides, he'd worked his way to the base of the stairs. A presence hovered over Wanda's shoulder but neither noticed. They locked eyes and metaphysical horns.

"For _your _information, I can't _touch _you," he spat, fury composed of three elements-resentment he couldn't, anger he couldn't control himself enough to stop from hurting Timmy, and fury he'd accused Wanda of the same crime. Like she _wasn't _his fairy godmother and _didn't _have his best interests at heart. _Brat._

"And before you start accusing everyone in this house of conspiring against you, let me tell you something. Sometimes, people can't do whatever they want and tell the truth. Did you ever stop to think that maybe there was a good reason behind their motives? Did you ever stop to think that sometimes, people aren't in complete control of their choices? Of course not. You'd rather point fingers," Lorenzo snapped, taking the steps two at a time and jabbing Timmy in the chest; he wasn't even tired.

Unfortunately, though it was a good point, the bearer wasn't exactly the best. His heart was in the right place (and he'd probably earned brownie points from Wanda), but his head…maybe not so much. Naturally, with Timmy's thickness, that point would never strike again. Wanda mentally slapped a hand to her forehead.

"Oh, that's rich coming from a guy who made me his sex slave! And you're not supposed to be touching me, but you keep jabbing me in the chest! That's bullshit! You could rape me in the hall if you wanted to! You're never going to change!" Timmy snarled and Tootie's door crept open. A pair of violet eyes watched them coolly.

"And _you _are? You're still furious at us and shoving Tootie away like you were months ago. You won't listen to reason and when I _do _make a breakthrough, you treat me like crap the next day. Timmy, sweetie, I love you, but I'm stressed out over Cosmo. I don't need this," Wanda murmured and all eyes shot to her.

"You and Tootie argue constantly and when you aren't biting _her _head off, you're biting mine. Why can't we have a quiet day for once, when music doesn't murder people's ears and I don't have to be woken up by you two screaming in telepathy. Why do you have to pick a fight with everyone?

"I understand if you hate me and I can empathize…but I'm at the breaking point. You need to stop focusing on yourself. Lorenzo's right- not everyone here can do whatever they want. Maybe it's time you stopped grousing and started caring about someone whose name isn't Timmy Turner. Maybe it's time you opened your eyes and realized that you aren't the only one suffering here."

Timmy's mouth opened and closed like a fish. Tootie stepped soundlessly out of her room and Sophie lingered on the edge of the front door. Lorenzo stared at her and could almost see the frustration surging through her. Sophie, meanwhile, knew she was nowhere near finished. The hardcover in her right hand grew slick with sweat.

"Do you think Sophie wants to be here? Do you think it's fair she was dumped here and her parents can't remember her name? Do you think she wants to hear you two sniping at each other? Did you ever stop to think that maybe she's lonely? No, of course not- you never see her head because it's always buried in a book. You don't even consider the possibility she might want someone to talk to," she snapped and the spirit by her shoulder bobbed and weaved through the air. Sophie blinked, finally placing him. Cosmo gave her the strength to speak her mind, lest she go entirely mad. She sighed inaudibly; Wanda had to learn to release her emotions more readily instead of plugging them up.

"And _me_- do you think I _like _having Cosmo worse than dead? Do you think I _like _waking up cold and alone? I…I miss him!" Words failed her and she plummeted to the couch. All four spurted towards her, Timmy flying down the stairs with Tootie at his heels. Yet when they hovered by the cushions, none moved. Wails ensued from the diminutive pink fairy and Lorenzo wrapped his arms around her; she pressed her face into his chest.

"We'll help," Timmy said before fully fleshing out his plan. Tootie, Wanda, Lorenzo, and Sophie all blinked at him, bewildered. Tentatively, he stroked her curls and she whimpered in his creation's arms.

"I don't know how…but we'll bring Cosmo back."

**…**

Offering the mirror a futile smile far shorter than she thought, Vicky heaved a sigh and swallowed her breakfast back down. Nausea rocked her and forced her lamentably back where she started. She visited the toilet often enough to call it her perpetual couch. Again with the smile that ended on her face, she reflected that Timmy might say the increment beckoned to her. He would say that the coldness and its services applied exceedingly well. She wasn't certain whether she wanted to punch out her inner Timmy or sulk.

Mark nudged their link, but she blockaded him. Between the company of him and the toilet, she preferred the latter. When she needed it, it remained stationary instead of fleeing her. Bastard. This was all his fault, too. If he hadn't forced her to have sex with him, then she wouldn't be in this predicament.

Ignoring the voice reminding her steely Mark was no rapist; she gritted her teeth and dug her nails into her fleshy upper arm. A sharp shriek rent the air and she shuddered deeply, hoping the pain procured would not exist and she might return to a semi normal life. Unfortunately, reality refused to yield to appease her.

Where had everything fallen apart? Was it upon meeting Mark? No. It all emanated from bucktooth loser and his crappy fairies, both of whom, to her knowledge, were utterly miserable. Good, let them be. Let everyone be miserable because she was.

Maybe she ought to assert that misery onto Tootie and relish her reaction. Maybe another's suffering would deter her mind from its shocking conclusion- she was pregnant and about to have a child. Though she'd been pregnant for months, she still hadn't made peace with that revelation. Its insinuation ate away at her consciousness like a strong acid; the green liquid burned everything in its reach.

((My dearest Vicky, you cannot avoid me forever,)) Mark prodded, but she simply ignored him. Disappointment and concern flooded their link and she shook her head. Perhaps he ought to have contemplated her reaction ere he endeavored foolishly. Perhaps if he had never come here…

But would she have been happier not knowing him? Was that the hormones, the guilt, and the self resentment speaking? Would she truly be happier alone? Then she'd endure Lorenzo alone… a fate worse than death…

((Forever is a very long time, love,)) he continued, unhampered. She blinked at his persistence but it unfazed her. Foolish alien, he had no idea how to contend with this. After all, hadn't he just run away? He was barely fit to father her child, much less speak through telepathy.

Swallowing hard, she pressed her nails into her stomach and shrieked again, higher and less restrained. Whatever movement upstairs ceased and she could almost feel their eyes on her. What would they say now? Would they mock her? What did they have to mock when their lives were hardly better? Or was it because she deserved their derision? Was this karmic retribution?

Suddenly stern, Mark murmured, ((Harming yourself solves nothing.))

Trembling angrily, unnerved by his unflinching calm, she snarled, ((Shut the fuck up! I don't need advice from a deserter!))

Silence. Silence absolute in which her blood trickled down her leg and slowly traversed to the ceramic bowl. Its dripping somehow amplified the silence instead of breaking it. The minute splash echoed only in her mind.

Sadistically, she enjoyed his anxiety. Now he might empathize and understand the quagmire in which he'd thrust her. Now he might have a taste of his medicine. Now was the winter of her discontent, made glorious summer…only this summer wasn't glorious at all. It sucked.

((What are you talking about? I did not desert you, dearest Vicky. I went to find a job so we don't have to mooch off Timmy,)) he answered honestly, yet her blood boiled. Nausea rocked her again and she pictured the toilet almost longingly. Disgusting, utterly and completely disgusting. She loathed what she'd mutated into.

((Liar,)) she hissed. Of course, it was impossible to lie via telepathy, but the point was moot. If she wanted him to be lying, then he was. She contorted reality and facts to suit herself.

Perhaps he sensed the futility in arguing, because he vanished. She thought she detested his company, but his absence haunted her. Maybe she had no idea what she wanted right now. If only she weren't so confused.

Glaring at the toilet, she wondered what the others were doing and then decided she didn't care. Whatever they wished had nothing to do with her and she was, quite frankly, grateful. She wanted to pity herself a little longer.

**…**

Wanda stared, disgruntled, at her husband's prone form. Tootie smiled encouragingly and Sophie nodded, but, for once, the small pink was completely and utterly lost. Sophie repeated "finding his center" and then searching for the path to his soul, but those words meant nothing to her. They really ought to, but her mind drew a complete blank. Perhaps it had more to do with her brain's stubborn refusal to leave this body lest she be beset again. Whatever the case, it irked her greatly. A simple task like astral projecting never seemed so difficult and frustrating.

"Maybe we ought to take a break," Sophie suggested meekly after Wanda continued to fail an hour later. At least for their part, Tootie and Sophie kept utterly silent, both undoubtedly lost in their own myriad of thoughts. She pitied them, but her pity mingled with frustration. Why couldn't she get this right, damn it? Why couldn't she release that last block?

"No!" Wanda snapped. They were welcome to leave, of course, but until she puzzled her way through, she was not budging an inch. They exchanged a weary look, Sophie's many years older than her actual age. Wanda wondered if under different circumstances, the two might have been friends. Their personalities were similar in certain aspects.

"We're not getting anywhere," Tootie pointed out, nudging the open magick book at her side. Wanda's heated gaze swept it and the thirteen year old girl. Tootie retreated, uncertain. Though she'd missed her actions under Juandissimo's influence, she'd probably heard a version from Timmy. Sophie squeaked and recoiled as well. Some impressions never died.

"_You're _not linked to Cosmo," Wanda replied, folding her arms across her chest. She was too exhausted to sugarcoat her words. Besides, a few more hours ought to do it. If she didn't collapse here on her bed, she'd think of _something_. She always did. That was why they weren't all dead right now.

"True…but, we, I mean, I have telepathy. I can probably help if you let me," Tootie retorted, folding her own arms across her chest. Wanda blinked, noticing the height difference. That was another thing she disliked about aging humans- they grew up and she had to look up to them. It's hard to take a creature seriously if they're the size of a child.

Wanda glanced at Sophie, wringing her hands and looking helpless. Truth be told she hadn't invited her because she unequivocally required her aid but because she understood Sophie felt fairly useless. Timmy and Tootie hardly gave her a second glance at mealtime and she spent too much time surrounded by books. At least here, she might be able to feel a sense of belonging.

Conversely, however, Tootie's words reminded her she preferred working on her own. Of course, that hadn't served her terribly well recently, but the fact remained she was usually her own support group. Cosmo twitched at the other end of the bed and her face fell. How long would she be able to deny aid before he completely deteriorated? This was her fault…all her fault…

"At least take a break for dinner," Sophie cajoled demurely, eyeing Cosmo apprehensively like he would spring to life and shake her. The pink haired fairy stroked his cheek, cold to the touch. In every aspect, he was fading away from her. Would one more supper constitute the difference between life and death? Would it make any difference at all?

_One more dinner could mean the last dinner I have while he still subsists, _she thought miserably and clutched him like a life preserver. Tootie and Sophie shared yet another indecipherable glance and came to a silent agreement. Nodding to each other, they gently disentangled her from Cosmo, yanked her by the arms, and hoisted her down the treehouse steps to the house.

**…**

Lorenzo DeMedici watched Timmy Turner and smirked, his beloved sire fumbling to express himself adequately via a love letter. Drafts littered the living room floor and yet the only accomplishment was the absurd amount of paper he'd wasted. He'd snatched an entire sheaf, plunked himself down at the table, and scribbled out his apparently ineffable emotions. The ink blotted on the fifth line, he cursed and it sailed through the air to land at the foot of the stairs. One thing could be said about this- he certainly had a marvelous arm. Naturally in his eyes, that wasn't the only thing that he found marvelous.

"If you bury enough of those in the rug, you won't start a wide ruled tree," he teased and perched on the landing, his feet on the topmost step. Timmy shot around so quickly, he nearly toppled over. The pencil flew out of his hand to land by the TV and Lorenzo observed its flight lazily. Tisk, tisk, he hadn't learned any manners in his absence.

"_What_ do you want?" Timmy snarled, cerulean eyes burning. Yet another crumpled sheet joined its siblings. The instant Wanda, Tootie, or Vicky caught wind of this, his feelings would be the least of his worries. Besides, Lorenzo privately thought the best way to express your feelings was writing it in blood. Short and sweet.

Smiling annoyingly, he merely shook his head and placed a finger to his lips. How he missed their bond and his power over him. Of course, that power had been wrought through threats, intimidation, and manipulation of the truth, but at least he'd held him in his arms. Oh, to wield such power again.

"Can't I watch you without being judged?" he replied demurely and smiled coyly. Timmy threw the next draft of his letter at his face. It struck home, bounced off, and landed three feet away from the bottom of the stairs. Lorenzo smirked, relishing his fury. He remembered when he taught him to destroy Cosmo and Wanda and how he used his fury against him. _Let your outrage pour through you…let it consume you…_

"Can you _look _at me without wanting to fuck me?" Timmy snarled, hairs on the back of his neck standing up. The thirteen year old sprang to his feet and crossed the room to glare at his creation. Venom lined his voice and his whole body quivered furiously. Despite the rage eminent, he smirked calmly. He only wished he had the same equipment as that storage shed. He moved into the same defense position he'd utilized many times before.

"Now, now, Timothy, such words are unbefitting, lewd, and completely inappropriate," Lorenzo replied, smirking. Timmy darted up the stairs and snatched his collar. Despite the bursts of breath from his nostrils, the smirk remained fixed. Not even Timmy's glittering eyes, sparking maliciously, halted him. It'd been far too long since he had prey like this.

"Fuck you!" he snapped, flinging himself at him. Of course, he'd easily forgotten the first rule of combat and left himself wide open for another attack. However, that wasn't the type of game he wanted to play tonight. The instant Timmy came within arm's length, he wrapped his arms around him and crushed him against his chest. A surprised gasp escaped the smaller boy, but Lorenzo ignored it completely. Instead, he buried his head in his hair and massaged his back.

Spidery fingers stroked his cheeks and slipped under his shirt. Timmy froze immediately, paralyzed with fear and the memories flooding back. He furiously ordered his limbs to operate, attack, anything, but they refused. Instead, he stood like a bump on a log while Lorenzo's fingers caressed his bare back. The scars were still there…the ones Wanda hadn't seen…

A faint whine from his protégé and he glanced down, the mood unbroken. "_Stop_…"

He had no intention of stopping. He'd waited too long for this moment to arrive and now that it had, he'd rather slit his throat than pass it by. Fuck the frach, fuck anyone who got in his way. Timmy was his and his alone. He hadn't suffered all that way to be denied his treat.

Timmy trembled badly in his arms and whispered the one name that would bring him release from this nightmare. Panic stricken, Lorenzo pressed his lips against his in the hopes the command would not have summoned her. The hand under his shirt shifted to the front and stroked his nipples. This, lamentably for Lorenzo, was as far as he got.

"LORENZO DEMEDICI!" Wanda bellowed, eyes blazing like her wand. Before he even saw it move, her wand cast a spell flinging him hard into the living room wall. There was an audible crack and when he slid down to the floor, he felt matted blood on his head. This was nothing compared to her fury.

"HOW _DARE _YOU TOUCH MY GODSON!"

All the resentment, indignation, and self loathing at failing to find Cosmo materialized and she had a scapegoat. Besides, it wasn't like he hadn't broken the cardinal rule she'd set out for him. At least she had ample reason to chastise him…and maybe abuse her magic a little. A barrage of spells whacked him upside the head, dangled him by his toes on the ceiling, and slapped him in the face. Timmy stared, nonplussed and frankly unnerved by both his godmother and Lorenzo's advances. He spurted up the stairs and never looked back.

"_You_! We had a deal, The _Other_, and you broke it. You were feeling up my godson and if I hadn't arrived when I did, you might have had your way with him again. I don't know what you were thinking or if you were at all, but this cannot be permitted to continue."

He swallowed hard, glancing away from her. She placed her hands on either side of his face so he couldn't break eye contact. Another wave of her wand and a cold tide coursed through him. He was about to find out what was worse than being stuck in a mirror.


	12. I'm Begging You to Fly this For Me

Disclaimer: FOP is not mine. It will never be mine. Lorenzo, Sophie, and the ideas within TOS _are _mine…especially Lorenzo. (frowns) You steal Lorenzo, you're in deep shit. At any rate, thanks to everyone who reviewed, please keep up, and enjoy!

Chapter Twelve: I'm Begging You to Fly this For Me

Darkness pressed in and permeated his very soul. Every breath Lorenzo DeMedici took stole another. He wasn't certain if he'd died or he was dying. Wherever he was, the living never spent a great deal of time. The air was noxious and like inhaling poison. He gagged and clutched his chest. Had Wanda sent him to die here?

Darkness shoved his eyeballs back into their sockets. It encapsulated his being and if he stayed here much longer, he'd never drag it back. The longer he stayed, the less he became. Fear poured down and choked him like the false air. What if the punishment for trying to seduce Timmy was eternity here?

But Wanda wouldn't damn him like that, would she? Sure, she'd been furious and flung him into the wall, but that wasn't like she loathed him. His trying to kill her and convincing Timmy to do the act for him were in the past. She couldn't bear a grudge that large, could she? Wasn't that why she'd revived him in the first place?

Then again, he'd broken the one major rule she'd instated. He'd let his hormones get the better of him. He'd let his hands roam Timmy and even now, he wished he'd gotten further. Blinking and achieving nothing in the futile notion, he realized he would have done it all over again, but only when he wouldn't have been caught. He still hadn't learned his lesson and he still wanted Timmy for himself.

A phantom flitted across his vision and he exhaled sharply, immediately fixating on it. There was life here? Wait, no, it couldn't be life. This place expelled the living, he was certain of that. Then who had passed him by? Who else was here?

Sighing heavily, he resigned himself to the long haul. Wanda _would _return for him, but in the meanwhile, he ought to contemplate an excuse. His hormones had betrayed him, so his mind had to take up the slack. Ah, things were much easier when he was training Timmy to kill Cosmo and Wanda and the boy was under his roof. Then he needn't bother to explain himself to anyone. Cosmo and Wanda had been too afraid to strike out.

Green? Hmm? It wasn't as though he actually saw it, but he felt the essence of green. Only one creature possessed it in excess and he flushed. He had no idea what the properties of this world were, but if telepathy worked here or any semblance of it, he might catch what he'd done with Wanda. Right now, he wasn't certain whether that was a bad thing or good.

True, in this world, he might have the leeway to destroy Cosmo's essence and therefore, his body. That'd eliminate his competition and ensure he only had to face one fairy in the future. Wanda wasn't nearly as powerful without Cosmo.

However, conversely, he had a sneaking suspicion Wanda _might _be upset if Cosmo died. Moreover, if she figured out it was he who led to the rest of his soul being destroyed, she _might _not be pleased. There might be only one fairy left, but she had magic and he had none to his knowledge. He could find himself in a very ugly situation once Wanda was done ripping him apart for destroying Cosmo.

Maybe if he bided his time and restrained himself, Cosmo would pass without incident. Maybe he hadn't enough humanity left to notice him. Maybe Danny Phantom will appear in Dimmsdale, because Cosmo stopped dead upon his sight. The green magnified and flared, a blinding contrast from the absolute darkness of before. Other creatures drifted by, but their strength was nothing compared to Cosmo's.

Flickering in that green aura enveloping the translucent body was pink and he thought he recognized it- whatever part Wanda had lost thanks to Juandissimo. If Wanda simply used her magic to locate that, she'd find Cosmo. Right now, he sincerely hoped she failed. Cosmo might've been here long enough to lose himself, but this part of Wanda was clearly made of stronger stuff. If they'd fused together, this was horrid indeed.

"Well, well, Lorenzo DeMedici, what mess have you landed yourself in now?" the Wanda particle addressed, her form overlapping Cosmo's. "I can only assume you have continued antagonizing the rest of me. What was it this time?"

"What is it usually?" Cosmo replied, his normal humor present. "I'd know if he offed you…so maybe he's accidentally offed himself. That'd solve a lot of problems."

"Oh, no," Wanda replied, drifting away and wincing when her body lost substance. The further she drifted from Cosmo, the less she became. Pain contorted her translucent face and, reluctantly, she returned to his side. This part of Wanda was clearly dependent on Cosmo.

_Maybe that's why it's here and not back with her. Juandissimo ripped it from her when he made her forget him…and now that he's here, she's bound to him_, he reflected. It certainly made sense. Wanda scarcely had enough substance to materialize outside Cosmo's aura, much less exist on her own. This part not only represented her compassion, but her tie to him as well. If he destroyed Cosmo, he'd be destroying part of Wanda.

"He is alive. Not terribly brilliant, but alive," she continued. Lorenzo shivered, perturbed by the fact her words came out of nowhere to him. Only when she moved away from Cosmo could he see anything other than the pink aura. It was unsettling.

Temper stole any patience from him and he glared at the two. Who were they to condemn him when they were stuck here? At least he was sentient. They weren't whole, they were the parts stolen away. They were nothing.

"Just tell me how to get out of here," Lorenzo retorted, folding his arms across his chest. Only by their dim light could he see them. Another surge of annoyance flared up and he glared, gritting his teeth. The sooner he escaped, the better. And he would make Wanda pay for sending him here. What was he, a misbehaving child? Honestly.

"What are you talking about?" Wanda replied, voice dangerously soft. "I don't know what you did to place yourself here, but there is no escape, Lorenzo DeMedici. Welcome to the abyss."

**

* * *

**

**(The treehouse, 10:00 p.m. PST)**

Wanda slumped against the side of her bed and heaved a tremendous sigh. Timmy sat across from her and folded his arms across his chest much like his counterpart was doing. Sophie opened the spell book yet again and leafed through its pages. No one had the slightest idea where to go from here and Wanda had exhausted herself sending The Other away. Now all she longed to do was sleep and forget, but neither opportunity presented itself.

Dizziness rocked her and she shut her eyes briefly in the hopes it would vanish. It did not. Without Cosmo, her magic level was low, but without good sleep and constant stress, plus her impromptu banishing, she was downright exhausted. In fact, she was so tired, she failed to recognize why she was able to send a being to that world in the first place. It wasn't because she was a fairy and knew more magic than anyone else in the house- it was because part of her was already there. And if part of her was there, then…

Yet try as she might, the answer evaded her. Rising unsteadily to her feet, she cast about for her wand, found nothing, and attempted to scramble up onto the bed. Unfortunately, she misjudged her weariness, because no sooner had she snatched the bed sheets than she pitched backward. Only Timmy rushing to her aid stopped her from hitting her head on the floor.

"You're going to sleep," he said firmly, cradling her. His neck bones rested against her oversensitive wings and she shivered. One of these days, if it meant hoisting a crane and pouring food down his throat, she'd put a little fat on those bones. That was, when the world returned to semi normalcy and Cosmo lay beside her. That day might never come.

"I'm not tired," she lied, but a yawn proved otherwise. Reluctant and indignant her godson had to cater to her, she scowled as he lay her down and then tucked her in. It wasn't long until sleep overtook her…but what an unusual dream…

* * *

_Wanda's fingers swept the series of books on Lorenzo's shelf, but none spoke to her. She floated at the topmost level, her head inches away from the ceiling. She'd never been up this high in his library and never again. There was no point in it. She hadn't found a single useful tome._

_A window displayed the stars, twinkling and dimming. The moon barely shone, like it too was dying. Her heart quickened and her breath shortened. She knew what it was to die, if only inwardly. She knew what it was to lose a part of herself she valued highly. Hanging her head, she admitted it would never return. She would never be as compassionate or as joyful as before, not after all this._

_No lights illuminated the covers; only her wand provided a steady light. Abruptly, it sputtered and slumped in her hand. The stars twinkled into oblivion, a cloak swept the room, and she floated in darkness. Not normal darkness, but one so absolute to pervade her very soul. She held out her useless wand and breathed shallowly, terrified of who might be waiting for her. In Lorenzo's mansion, one never knew._

"_Wanda…" a voice called, but she stiffened. Who knew her name? Who was calling her? Who was out there?_

"_You betrayed me, mi amor," whispered the voice stealing sleep in the night. "You should not have run to that buffoon. I am more than enough to satisfy you."_

_Wanda shoved her limp wand to protect herself and shuddered deeply. A faint purple aura lit up Juandissimo's face and illuminated the inhumanity. She wanted to cry, but no words came. In fact, her throat closed up entirely. Painful recollections of him forcing himself on her strangled any cognizant thought. Her wings stopped fluttering and she dropped like a stone into the abyss._

"_You will **not **escape me!" he screamed and she began to sob, agonizing wails that ripped through her shut lips and obliterated her vision. He was coming after her…and she couldn't fly, much less defend herself. He was the beast that went bump in the night and she was powerless. _

_Soft, delicate pink enveloped her and she whimpered, petrified. Who was here now? Was it his crony? Who else went bump in the night? Who else was here to destroy her?_

"_Do not fret so much, sweetie," a voice eerily familiar whispered and its presence comforted her in its embrace. Juandissimo halted dead, his purple eyes searing her where she floated. He made a rude gesture and she moaned pitifully, crawling further into the embrace. The atmosphere shifted and he floated nearer, grinning cruelly and placing his translucent hands on her shirt. Wanda froze, paralyzed with fear._

"_**Enough**! You have taken enough! You do not have the right to claim her!" the voice thundered, severe and intimidating. Glancing up, she spotted the telltale pink swirl and golden earrings, a gift from Cosmo. This wasn't a random spirit speaking back to him. She shivered, confused. It couldn't be…could it?_

_Juandissimo smirked, but when she glanced closer, she saw his spirit trembling before this one. He slid his hand under her shirt (Wanda pressed herself into her newfound guardian) and the spirit, snatching her suddenly vivacious wand, blasted him into the netherworld. It then stroked her hair and rocked her back and forth. _

_"You have lost your way, little one," the voice intoned and, shivering slightly, she looked up to see her own pink eyes staring back at her. The spirit smiled kindly and hugged her tightly. Wanda, nonplussed, let her hands fall by her sides. She didn't entirely understand what was going on._

_"But I have missed you, just the same. You must have realized there was an irretrievable part of yourself before, didn't you? Your innocence, your true concern for others…you have lost yourself in the darkness._

_"You cannot find Cosmo because you have lost the part tightly bound to him. He is your hikari, your light, and your pain has blinded you to him. You cannot call him back to you until you heal yourself. Otherwise, what use do you have of him? You will push him away when he wants to help…when he lovesyou and wishes you'd smile…"_

_Wanda swallowed hard, her half soul's words hitting home. Before Remy had stolen him away from her, she'd shoved him away. She hadn't let him in…and now, what was she going to do? Was she doomed to shove him away while she sobbed in the night? Cosmo was more than her husband- he was her **soul **mate and by denying him, she was denying part of her soul. _

_No wonder this part remained. She'd never retrieved it and never attempted to ease the ache Juandissimo caused. At least, not to the point where she was happy. She'd shared one intimate moment with Cosmo, but that already felt like another lifetime. Besides, no one was to say she wouldn't hide her pain from him again. The cycle might start again._

_"How do you know all this?" Wanda inquired of herself and the spirit smiled faintly. A green glow erupted and Cosmo appeared before her. Terrible, awful yearning quaked her body and she reached out to him. But when she looked further…she saw Juandissimo staring back at her._

_"Until you can look at Cosmo and see him as the fairy he is instead of Juandissimo, you will never be yourself again."_

* * *

**(Tootie's room, 12:00 am. PST)**

It was midnight but Tootie wasn't tired in the slightest. Gary perched on her bed and watched her like a cat. Every time she glanced at him, he would smirk convincingly. She didn't know why he was here. Moreover, she had no idea why she'd invited him in the first place. Was it revenge against Timmy? Spite?

"Toot-Toot, I'm not your enemy, you know," Gary murmured, tossing a tennis ball up. It smacked the ceiling and he caught it deftly in his right hand. Up and down, smack, smack, smack. For several moments, she watched its unimpeded progress, and then he rolled over onto his stomach and smiled genuinely at her. The ball rolled onto the floor and ended by the door.

Turning from him, she gazed out the window. Her room was on the same side was Timmy's and she had an unobstructed view of the treehouse. Swallowing hard, she bit back a guilt flood. She ought to be in there with Wanda, but she hadn't desired to stay any longer than absolutely possible with Cosmo. They'd gotten into another argument; one Wanda had tried to halt to no avail. She'd snarled at the two and ran out before she said anything she regretted to the poor pink fairy.

"You can rant to me…" he prodded gently, rising and standing behind her. Their reflections shone in the glass and she swallowed hard again, hoping Wanda was all right. Why did she have to be Timmy's fairy godmother? She'd be a lot more inclined to help without him hanging around.

"Since when do _you _care what I think? You're always after Timmy," she remarked offhandedly, closing the curtains. Timmy blasted music in his room and she swore. Wordlessly, she darted out the door, slammed it, and yanked open his. Brand New poured out the speakers and she heard "die young and save yourself!" ring throughout the hall.

Timmy felt rather than saw her enter and shut off his speakers so he didn't have to yell over them. However, the tinny sound of "Gunning Down Romance" emanated from Sophie's room. Tootie would laugh if looking at Timmy didn't make her sick to her stomach. She'd had a lot of guilty flashes tonight, her experiences in other worlds among them. How could she have been so stupid? Why had she been that desperate? Why had she wanted him so badly? At least if she'd used restraint, then she wouldn't have broken the rules and betrayed herself.

Sighing heavily, she steeled herself for another argument. Opening her mind to him proved futile. He read her guilt and glared. The guilt she felt was swiftly replaced by resentment and fury. How _dare _he condemn her! What the hell was his problem? She'd done it because she needed him and he hadn't given a damn. What a surprise, he still didn't.

"Well, I was _going _to tell you to turn that music down, but I guess it's the only thing keeping your brains from leaking out your ears. That much pressure would shove _anything _back inside its shell," Tootie snapped, leaning against the doorway. If he was going to be a dick, then she could be a bitch.

"I'm surprised you heard it since you're so busy with Gary," Timmy retorted, folding his arms across his chest and glaring. "How many fucks does that make?"

"_None_, you little twit," she hissed at the very instant he passed Timmy's door. The color drained from her face in an instant and she slammed the door closed two seconds too late. Timmy's eyes narrowed to slits and he strode across the room to grip her upper arm painfully. However, she did not give him the satisfaction of crying out.

"_Slut_," Timmy snapped and shoved her out the door. "You lying, dirty _slut_. Enjoy your time with Gary, because I sure as hell don't want you here."

Fury stole any sensible response and she snarled. Blood thundering in her ears, she slammed the door in his face. He fumbled for the doorknob, but she punched it furiously and stomped off to her room. There was a certain message she'd received a few hours ago and it gave her a perfect excuse never to see him again.

* * *

Stars streaked across the sky, much like her tears. Up in a tree house overlooking her godson's lawn and house, a small pink faery hugged herself and swallowed hard, concentrating intensely. In order to combat her demons, she had to face them head-on. In her mind, that meant battling alone.

A terrible ache twisted her stomach and she glanced at Timmy's bedroom. Of all the creatures present, she'd known him the longest, but discussing this with him didn't feel like an option at the moment. Considering he'd almost gotten molested again thanks to her, she sincerely doubted he'd greet her with open arms. She hung her head, sighing heavily. Now that she actually contemplated turning to someone else, she discovered how limited her options were.

Still, what harm would it do to check in on him? She wouldn't have to wake him necessarily. Perhaps seeing him might stem her overwhelming feeling of failure. In the very least, it'd take her mind off Juandissimo and Cosmo for a few seconds. She retrieved her wand and closed her eyes, focusing on poofing into Timmy's room. Since her transgression into darkness, using her wand and light magic to transport herself proved more difficult.

Unfortunately, she misjudged and landed in Tootie's room. There, realizing this was one place she would _not _like to be discovered, she hid amongst her books. Tootie was ranting about her godson and cramming materials into a bag. Two phantom fairies, one she recognized, tried to waylay her. They mentioned something about missions and Jorgen, but Tootie snapped and they fell silent. Casting one last glance over the room, she shouldered her burden, shut the door, and vanished into the night.

Sighing heavily, aware she'd been privy to something important, she finally located the correct room. Timmy stared up at the ceiling dully and turned sharply in her direction. His blue eyes, illuminated by the moon shining through his open window, glared hatefully. Wanda retreated, holding her wand as a weapon in front of her. She should have figured he'd be like this.

"What, your _pet _isn't here?" he snapped churlishly and she sighed, descending onto his bed. He switched on the Crimson Chin lamp (for a few seconds, she thought he might strike her with it) and spotted her tear streaked face. As furious as he was for Lorenzo, he was more worried than angry at the moment. The guarded look left his face, replaced by concern. She sighed, wondering whether the transition was good or not.

"Are you okay?" he whispered, leaning over and scooping her up into his arms. Wanda swallowed hard, ignoring the role reversal and its peculiarity. Instead, she shut her eyes and allowed the simple comfort of his embrace to flood her senses. For a while, she said nothing and nestled in his arms. He might be all skin and bones, but he was _her _skin and bones.

Opening her eyes reluctantly to peer into his face, his cerulean eyes standing out amidst his skeletal visage, she sighed heavily. The plain lie would not suffice any more. Besides, she'd wanted this. She'd come here to talk, not to deny herself. Until she released everything, she'd have nothing.

"No…I'm not."

They were three simple words (four if you didn't count the contraction as one), but they lifted a tremendous burden. To admit aloud she wasn't as satisfied as she led on was a step in the right direction. Not everything was all right in this fairy tale. And that somehow pleased her to say. _I'm not okay, I promise…_

Awkwardly, disused to this sudden role reversal, Timmy murmured, "Do you-do you wanna talk?"

Truthfully, she had no idea where to start. She felt secure enough here, but now that she opened her mouth, her mind was curiously blank. Bewildered, she cast her mind about for a topic of discourse related to what she wanted and then sighed, grasping her wand tightly. Discussing these things with Cosmo had been somewhat easier because they were mentally bound. Timmy shared that with Tootie, but not her. Still, since she _was _the reason for it, she ought to be able to invoke a mind room session.

"I mean, it's all right if you don't want to," he said quickly, stroking her hair. She bit her lip, praying her trust wasn't misplaced. Though she'd gradually begun to trust him again since the Lorenzo mishap, letting him into her mind room was a huge step. What if he attacked there? She might not live to tell the tale.

"I-I want to show you something," she murmured, clutching her wand to her chest. "But if I do, you have to promise me that whatever you see you won't tell _anyone_. And you can't…you can't use it against me. This is very personal…and very painful. I need to be able to trust you…"

Timmy leaned forward, catching the urgency in her words. Her pink eyes revealed her desperation and vulnerability. He nodded, but she shook her head. Nods were meaningless. She wanted his _word_.

"I promise I won't hurt you."

Petrified, her whole body trembling, she seized her wand in one hand and his hand in the other. Concentrating on her mind room with every fiber of her being, she directed them safely to it. A metaphysical yank tore their conscious representations (Timmy cried out, surprised) from their bodies and situated them in her mind. The amount of magic needed astounded her, perhaps because she'd never done this before without leaning on Cosmo. Well, hopefully she'd recover quickly because otherwise, they were stuck unconscious until she could muster enough to send them back.

She sighed, wishing her room looked like it did beforehand. Instead of the floral pink decorating, everything was black. Everywhere they turned, varying shades met them. Timmy reluctantly sat on a couch and his eyes examined every inch of the place. Once in a while, a bit of pink, Cosmo's portrait, and the fire would intrude upon the darkness and depressing aspects, but they were fighting a losing battle. Timmy glanced at her, floating motionlessly and staring into the fire, hypnotized. It crackled like always, but it too carried a hint of the darkness in her soul.

"Wanda, what _is _this place? And why's it so black? It looks like a funeral home," Timmy remarked quietly, feeling like if he spun around, he'd find a coffin. She hesitantly left the fire and glanced at her godson. Like always, mind projections showed whatever the person wished themselves to appear. He wasn't emaciated here, but she knew, without checking a mirror, that she donned all black. It matched the decorum and her mood whenever she came here.

"This? This is my mind room, sweetie. It's where I go to relax…" she trailed off, touching her hair. Timmy stared at it avidly and she conjured up a mirror to spot whatever he was so fascinated with. She was unnerved but not unsurprised to discover her normally bright pink curls had gone completely black. They tumbled freely out of her bun and she shivered herself, seeing the fairy Juandissimo had violated staring back at her. Perhaps this wasn't such a great idea.

"This doesn't look terribly relaxing to me," he replied, still in a hush because this new Wanda terrified him. In a few moments, she might brandish her wand and threaten him, if the past were to repeat. But when he glanced into her eyes, he saw sorrow, not her loathing for all creatures. She was remorseful for the fairy she'd become.

Lowering her gaze, she settled onto a stool beside the couch and shook her head. Carefully, like dealing with a wild animal, he crept closer to her. This was unsettling him and, when she saw it through his eyes, she understood why. She'd come to, well, not embrace, but accept the void surrounding her. She kept it at bay in her waking hours, but when she came here, it resounded throughout. _Timmy must've been more convinced by the illusion than I thought…or else he didn't think it went this deep._

"It's not, sport. It's not relaxing to run through my memories only to blame myself every time. It's not relaxing to force myself to believe those lies. It's not relaxing at all to be here, but it's my mind. It's the only place I can truly be alone with my thoughts, whatever good or ill that does me," she explained weakly, folding her arms across her chest.

Timmy scowled, creeping close enough to hold her hand. Though his hand quaked, he cradled it in his own. She gazed at him steadfast and the corners of his lips turned up. In the face of all this, however, he couldn't smile. It was all right; as long as he was brave enough to try comforting her, she didn't care.

"It doesn't seem to be doing you any good at all. I mean, look at this place. It's like you're sinking into a depression just being here."

Tearing her gaze from him, she gazed at the fire instead. How precious fire was, especially here. One wrong move, a sudden gust, and her life essence would vanish in the blink of an eye. Life seemed to be strong, but it was in reality extremely fragile. If Lorenzo had discovered the truth about mind rooms sooner, well, she shuddered to think of what might have become of her. In conscious, waking hours, mind rooms were inaccessible. It required a meditative state and if she were preoccupied in other matters, he could have broken in and destroyed her completely.

Yet minus a Lorenzo, she was doing a rather good job of destroying herself. Look at what she called therapy- torturing herself needlessly over memories that agonized her too much to look away and then laying the blame on the wrong creature. Unfortunately, she hadn't the foggiest notion how to break the cycle. That was where Timmy came in. He had to have some idea…or at least could prevent her from blaming herself again.

"I…I'm going to show you something. It's one of my memories…and it's rather graphic. I can't seem to tell you verbally, so I have to show you. I might react badly, but you have to let it run, okay? Hold me until it's over."

The words sounded strange, but the concept was stranger. He blinked, glancing from her to the newly arrived projector screen. Wordlessly, he swept her up into his arms again and cradled her to his chest. Holding up her wand, she enacted her past and hoped for the best. This was not going to be pleasant.

* * *

_**(Less than a year ago, time indeterminable due to mental blocking)**_

_Wanda shivered, yet the instant she did she cursed herself vehemently. She had no need for warmth or for material objects. Power and glory over her enemies was all she required. An image of Cosmo drifted by and she shivered again, longing to put a name to this ineffable entity. Who was he? Why did he haunt her?_

_Juandissimo appeared out of nowhere and stroked her face. The movement was chaste, but not for long. In due time, he'd sweep her away from the streets of Marseilles and into their chateau where he would either make sweet love to her…or force it. The latter occurred more than the former and if she had her wand, she'd tear his throat out for trying. All her puny struggling accomplished nothing- it seemed to turn him on instead of repelling him._

_"There is no one out there for you, mi amor. We are alone…you are my wife and always will be," he whispered, grabbing her about the waist roughly and allowing his hands to rub her stomach and pelvis. Immediately she froze, gritting her teeth and her eyes narrowing disdainfully. She attempted to attack only to find herself rendered immobile. Pure, unadulterated loathing coursed through her veins and she spat bitterly. _

_"We have always been like this. Don't you remember?" he continued, sliding his hand beneath her stretch pants. Every muscle in Wanda's body tightened and she worked her jaw, discovering it luckily to be functioning. She might be paralyzed, but her tongue wasn't. He wasn't going to take her without a fight._

_"**Liar**," she spat, her saliva landing on his forehead. "When I find out who Cosmo is, I'm running off with him and putting you six feet under."_

_Whatever she expected, the reaction was nowhere near as subdued. He roared at the mention of his rival and poofed them up to the chateau where he slammed her hard on the bed. Weightless, she bounced a few times before landing; he flung himself after her with a growl and pinned her motionless arms to the bed. Every cell in his body was alight with malice, jealousy, and a touch of insanity. She stared up at him and saw only madness._

_"There **is **no Cosmo, you fool," he growled, slapping her across the face. Defiance and hatred glittered in her darkened eyes, almost completely black. Whoever Cosmo was, regardless of whether she believed he'd come or not, he offered her a window of hope and a weapon against Juandissimo. The fact she'd recalled his name was an act of defiance, though she knew not why._

_"There never was and there never will be, do you understand?" he hissed, ripping off her shirt in one fell swoop. An unpleasant sensation rocked her and nausea gripped her stomach. She had an inkling of what he had in mind- and so she spat on him repeatedly in hopes he'd stop. _

_"**Fool**!" he growled again and the scene went black._

* * *

Timmy exhaled softly, glancing at the convulsing pink fairy in his arms. She'd shut the memory off, but it continued for her. She wanted to spare him the expense of seeing her brutalized, but he was already shaken enough not to argue. Wracking sobs caused her to bury her head in his chest and wail unabashed. He wasn't sure if it was a reaction to her past or because the nightmare continued for her.

Unnerved and at a loss, he slowly began to stroke her hair and back. It took her a good while to calm down; she wrapped her arms around him and bawled. He rocked her back and forth, unsettled but realizing she needed him more than he needed to be the child in the relationship right now. Fortunately for both of them, the tears abated and she was finally able to spin around and regard him.

Timmy stared back, at a loss. Two prevalent questions surfaced and he eyed her warily. Some pink was seeping back into her clothes and hair. Simply sharing her recollection convalesced her. He only hoped he didn't get nightmares.

"I…I should have picked something less graphic. I'm sorry, sweetie. This is my fault," she whispered, bowing her head. Tears brimmed on her eyelashes and he wiped them away, still feeling awkward but adjusting.

"You don't think anything _else _is your fault, do you?" he asked before he could stop himself. She blinked up, her large pink eyes reflecting his face. There was a certain beauty in the opalescent orbs mirroring his own and the wisdom beyond their visible years that they held.

"What do you mean?" she murmured, though she knew damn well what he meant. Verbalizing it and thinking it were two different things. He wrapped his arms tighter around her back, chary not to touch her wings.

"Do you blame yourself for, you know…" he whispered and she shuddered.

"Yes," she said simply and sighed heavily. "Sport, before we go on, I should mention that you can't lie in the mind room. That means we have to be brutally honest with each other, no matter how much it might hurt. I understand if you don't want to continue-"

Cupping her chin in his palm and forcing her to look up at him, he said, "I'm not turning back now. And this isn't your fault. Don't blame yourself."

Smiling humorlessly, she replied, "Do _you _blame yourself for what Lorenzo did?"

He glanced away but that gave her all the response she needed. Extending her fingertips, she brushed his cheek. The motherly comfort returned his focus to her, but he couldn't muster a smile. Unfortunately, nor could she.

"We have our work cut out for us."

* * *


	13. The Straw

Disclaimer/Author's Note: I finished most of this in one day. I wanted to tell you guys that whereas SS made TOS P4 sound like it'd be an epic, I really don't have enough material to do that. So I had to rework everything and though I like how it'll be, it's not going to work exactly as I'd planned because I lost a lot of the story through time. Certain events ended up not being as important as I originally thought they would be.

Why am I telling you this? Because the end is near, actually. Not to freak you guys out, but it's about time this baby was finished. It's been over three years, if you count composition time. Of course, I'll have a special place in my heart for it, but I've moved out of my FOP stage, sadly. This is the true testament to how my writing style changed and how I matured.

And Fairly Oddparents will never belong to me as long as I shall live.

Chapter Thirteen: The Straw

A moonlit sky illuminated the piles upon piles of books in Sophie's room. The clock read two thirty two a.m., but its denizen lay awake. She sighed piteously, eyed the ceiling again, and rolled over onto her side. Wrapping her arms around a near by blanket, she clenched her eyes shut and began again. Tonight especially refused to yield slumber. She'd lain awake for over three hours now and only learned the ceiling holes, nowhere near dreamland.

The sensation, though hardly unfamiliar, annoyed her vastly. Her mind was amassed turmoil, darting here and there. No sooner had she chased one troubling concept away than another took its place. Wanda's situation weighed heavily and despite doing everything she could, she felt like a failure. Why had her books betrayed her? Surely books could solve anything- they had never failed her in the past. There had to be something she was overlooking that could make her godmother happy.

Other than reading and burying herself in another's misery, she threw herself headlong into aiding Wanda. It kept her mind off other things, like her sudden orphan situation. It blocked the little voice in her head that kept whispering this was partly Wanda's fault and temporarily halted her frustration with Timmy and Tootie for making their stupid sexual frustration public.

She had no idea what that was (only a little of what it entailed) and it irked her tremendously. Honestly, why couldn't they just listen to each other? Wanda was always going on about telepathy, so why couldn't they talk things out there? Why did she have to hear their stupidity? Not that she begrudged Tootie…but she hated losing place in her book because they sniped at each other again. Losing place in her book meant for an instant she remembered where she was and how she got there and she became completely miserable.

Sitting up, she glanced at the treehouse and wondered if it was a trick of the light, the pink pacing the room. A small electric lamp illuminated her tired features and the wand clutched in her right hand. However, the instant she looked closer, it was gone. She blinked, staring blankly.

A pink flash lit her room and she gasped, drawing back. Only Wanda could have that one. She opened her mouth to speak with her when words failed her. In fact, her eyelids failed her as well. No sooner had Wanda entered than fairy dust drifted over Sophie's head and she fell asleep.

* * *

Wanda waved her wand once more as insurance and the nine year old curled up in a ball. Sighing heavily, she looked away. If only she could fall asleep so undisturbed like that, positively magical. Sure, she could cast the spell over herself, but she'd already tried that. No matter what, Juandissimo tore through and she awoke shuddering. She strongly suspected he left his magic within her after his molestation.

Landing heavily, she descended and stroked the girl's hair. It wasn't fair for her to be stuck here like this, especially considering her past. Timmy and Tootie were far from hospitable and the only creature she knew was dealing with her own problems. In all respects, other than her books, she was alone. She'd never even asked for fairy godparents and she'd gotten a mess instead of supernatural solutions. When Wanda solved her own mess and got Cosmo on her side to boost her magic, she'd cure her parents, erase her memories of these last few months, and send her back. It was the least she could do.

Her breathing was regular and even like all calm children. Wanda had godparented so many children; she'd learned to detect the slightest signs of a nightmare. Fortunately, the sleep she'd put her in defied dreams. It was so deep; she wouldn't be disturbed in the morning by any arguments or evil tempered pregnant women (fortunately, they had only one). It was the only gift she could give her without a wish and she did it out of love and concern.

Yet in the quiet of the night, she was reminded of something else. Though she'd tried and tried, she'd never had a child of her own. She experienced it vicariously and sometimes, they truly felt like her own. Therefore when the time came to leave them, it ached like nothing else. She'd bonded to some of them and the knowledge that they'd forget her was almost unbearable. Sometimes she wondered what the point of it all was if their childhood was only happy because of that part they never recalled. How could you be happy if you couldn't remember being that way?

Sophie stirred slightly, the relics of her magic twisting and manipulating the spell. Wanda shivered, wishing she were stronger and her own magic more potent. It seemed there were many things she couldn't count on anymore, including her spells. Timmy would leave her eventually as would almost everyone except Cosmo. And even that was up in the air right now. She sighed, wishing she hadn't remembered how lonely it was being a fairy godmother.

Yet with Cosmo, it hadn't felt like this. Whenever she got sentimental, he'd start spewing random insanity just to cheer her. She shut her eyes, imagining him beside her. He'd tell her to stop watching Sophie and come to bed. There was no sense in thinking about things that were years off, he'd add. And she knew her imaginary version was right…but she couldn't bring herself to listen to him right now. Sophie was here, albeit asleep, and he was floating somewhere. The knowledge made her heart pang.

Wait, floating somewhere? That reminded her- hadn't she left Lorenzo in the abyss? She bristled, recalling how he'd gotten there in the first place. Didn't she have enough to worry about without fretting over leaving her godson alone? She shouldn't have to contend with his anti fairy trying to rape him at every time. In her right hand, her wand shot off warning sparks and she scowled, knowing she had to bring him back if only to make him realize how badly he'd erred.

Waving her wand grandly, she cast her mind for him and caught his magical signature. Along with this she caught a strange sense of guilt not related to his recent attack on Timmy- it was related to her. A little fishing around and she reached a strange recollection of him kissing her while she plainly unable to protest. The fury led her yank harder than usual and he entered with a loud pop, smacking hard into the carpet and landing face first. He was pale, trembling, and beyond her empathy at the moment. Scowling, she waved her wand once more and he rolled over, staring up at the ceiling incomprehensibly. Gibberish escaped his mouth and he sat up, staring _through _her. Okay…

Comprehension dawned on him and he jumped up, practically jumping on Sophie to envelope her in a hug so tight, she couldn't breathe. He babbled, apparently ecstatic she came to her senses and rescued him from that hellhole. Pressed up against his chest, she mentally remarked that she now understood Timmy's desire to stab him in the heart. She jabbed at him with her wand and he finally released her thanks to his sweater catching fire. Perturbed, he beat at it frantically while she drew several breaths of sweet, precious, life giving oxygen.

"You saved me!" he said once he'd fanned the flames. "I did not doubt that you would come to your senses and realize my _proper _place. Surely, an act such as mine did not merit such cruelty in the first place and you have discovered your mistake. There was no lasting damage-"

"_Excuse _me?" Wanda replied once she could breathe normally again. "You've scarred my godson for life and you tell me there's no lasting damage? You tried to feel him _up _after you kissed me and you insist you're in the wrong? I thought you were the more intelligent side of Timmy, but I see I was mistaken."

He scowled, his chivalry forgotten. Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw a shadow creep past Sophie's slightly ajar door and she swallowed hard. Only one other person lived up here right now and his presence would be most unwelcome right now. She sent him a weak telepathic message (weak thanks to the fact that neither of their partners were here to boost it), but he either disregarded it or never received it in the first place. Unfortunately, thanks to overtaxing her magic in the past few hours, she doubted she had the power to transport them elsewhere or sound proof the room. Experience taught her when in doubt, don't attempt it. Being stuck between two places hardly appealed to her.

Lorenzo glared in response, folding his arms across his chest. "Is that so, frach? I was smart enough to ensure my return."

"Yet you couldn't exercise enough self control to keep your hands to yourself for a _minute_," she hissed, shutting the door. It smacked in Timmy's face and he muttered under his breath, but craned his head to listen in. She sighed, not having to see it to know what he was doing. She hadn't spent thousands of years godparenting not to know when children were listening in.

"You were not present in the first place and-"

"That doesn't mean I wasn't going to return!" she shot back, folding her own arms across her chest. "What, you thought you'd get a little picnic with him while I was gone? Were you thinking at _all_? You _knew _that was _the _rule we agreed to and yet, you thought nothing of breaking it."

Turning away from her, he faced the window. Sighing lightly, he leaned against the sill and stared at the empty treehouse. His long brown hair settled down around his waist and his hands splayed, knuckles whitened. His cold blue eyes swept the outside before answering as though calculating his response. Were Timmy able to see this, he would have attacked in lieu of another reaction. Wanda, however, possessed more patience, though her temper was waning.

"It was not that I thought nothing of it…but that I thought everything of it and him. You know how I feel about him, Wanda," he replied and if he thought this would sway her, he was sadly mistaken. A dull thud pounded against the door and the two jumped. Timmy was snarling at the door and threatening the creatures behind it. Wanda almost wished Tootie were home to distract him.

"I do and that was why I stipulated that. If you love him, you should be able to comprehend the damage you've done. You should be able to understand the best thing for him is to let him grow up uninhibited by your advances, Lorenzo. You've already hurt him so badly," Wanda whispered, shutting her eyes. Sophie stirred again, reaching her fingers out and inadvertently stroking her godmother's wings. The pink fairy shivered, moving away before anything else happened.

"And whose fault would _that _be?" Timmy snapped and though she outwardly ignored him, she hung her head. Hers, of course. Cosmo had tried to convince her otherwise when he trained under The Other, but she knew the truth. She knew she'd brought this upon them and she regretted it every day, but that didn't give him the right to bring it up, now of all times.

Terrible, horrible guilt threatened to suffocate her. She'd caused Timmy to make the wish in the first place, tore Sophie from her parents, and led to everything else. How could she have foreseen it? Despite what Cosmo had insisted, she ought to have known better. She was the smart one; she should have stopped herself.

If Lorenzo heard him, he made no show of it. Instead, he spun around, his hair twirling in a circle. She felt his scrutiny and shivered, clutching her wand. Too many times had that same gaze held her own and it usually spelled trouble, or, in the very least, a denial. Lorenzo never saw things properly. He never quite grasped that this was wrong and he couldn't forever justify his actions. But he was part of her godchild too and she had to try to adjust him properly because that was her job as a godmother. If he lacked morals and common sense, which was something she should be able to remedy.

"You do not think it is possible for him to share that affection, do you?" he murmured sadly, leaning against the wall. Behind the mask, she caught sorrow and remorse. The more he wanted him, the further he drove him away. She almost pitied him.

Wanda opened her mouth to lightly break the news to him when Timmy wrenched the door open and switched on the light. Every inch of his body quaked furiously and he glared hatefully at the two. Apparently used to this, Lorenzo's expression never faltered, but Wanda cringed. Suddenly, uncomfortably, she was aware she had no one to defend her here. Lorenzo might, but he'd be too busy defending himself. She was literally alone and she loathed it.

"I'd rather slit my wrists and jump off the roof, thanks," Timmy snarled. "And it's nice to see you were thinking of me, Wanda, when you arranged for him to come back. You already _knew _he was going to try to rape me and you never thought to, I don't know, _stop _him? Or maybe you just needed entertainment since Remy took Cosmo away."

The instant the words left his mouth, he knew he'd made a mistake. Wanda looked like she'd been slapped across the face and the hand holding her wand abruptly released it. All the color drained from her and she plummeted out of midair, using it as an excuse to retrieve her wand and escape. However, unlike her normal poofs that were usually accompanied by a "pop", this was muted. Lorenzo pivoted, staring in her absence across the room to his sire, mouth agape.

"Well, well, Timothy, you certainly have a way with words," he snapped, glaring. "Or were you hoping that she'd shove you off the roof herself? If you keep shooting your mouth off like that, you won't have too long to wait."

"What the hell do _you _care? You trained me to _kill _her, for God's sake! You should be happy she's upset! You used to be when I was your whore!" Timmy retorted, eyes narrowed. He glanced towards the treehouse, but there were no lights. Wherever Wanda had gone, either she preferred the darkness or she wasn't there. His conscience swung and smacked a home run in his soul.

He had no business saying that and he knew it. But when he was around Lorenzo, his brain short-circuited. Besides, it pissed him off that she'd planned to have him resuscitated without asking him. He'd killed him to get rid of him, not to share a goddamn house with him. What the hell was the point of killing him if he just came back to bite him in the ass?

And Wanda had let this happen, too. But the instant his mind touched upon that, it veered away again. He wanted to blame her badly because that meant he didn't have to think about his own role in the sordid affair, but blaming her for Cosmo's attack wasn't right either. He'd seen them and he knew how deeply they cared for each other, but he couldn't help himself. In that moment, he hadn't thought at all. He wanted to hurt her as badly as the thought of being betrayed had hurt him. From the looks of things, he'd done that too.

"_My _insults were meaningless because I was the villain. She cared naught for me nor I for her. Timmy, she _loves _you. I'm not saying you should go up there and apologize (supposing that's where she is), but if you value her as anything more than your easy solution to life's problems, then you ought to keep your damn mouth shut. You're lucky she tolerates you, considering how others in this house regard you."

Timmy swallowed hard, for once acknowledging his creation might have a point. Tootie was in and out and he basically never saw Sophie outside of mealtimes. Gary could go to hell as far as he was concerned and he'd rather not have to set eyes on Lorenzo again as long as he lived. Unfortunately, that wasn't possible.

Glaring at him, he turned his back on him, left the room (and Sophie alone with his creation) and took the steps two at a time. Disregarding the summer breeze outside, surprisingly chilly (probably thanks to Wanda), he hugged himself and glanced up. Tonight the treehouse felt forbidding and unfamiliar and when he ascended the steps, they suddenly grew slick and he fell, unable to grab hold. Well, that answered one question. Only magic made dry wood as slippery as polished metal.

Above him loomed a pink fairy, eyes narrowed to slits. Wand clutched in her right hand, it illuminated her trembling body and a few warning sparks landed on a nearby tree. Timmy gulped, noticing how quickly it and the surrounding branches caught fire. Though she doused the flames, her eyes never left him and her body continued to quake furiously. Her fingers tightened on her wand like she'd love to do so around his neck.

"I don't know what you think you're doing here, but leave. Now."

Her words left no other option, but Lorenzo's rang through his head. The thought never occurred to him that trying to mend the damage while she was still enraged with him might not be a great idea, but then again, he seldom thought before he acted. If he had, he wouldn't be standing out here with a furious faery fanning flames and glaring daggers at him. He also wouldn't be mourning Tootie's loss while alternatively insulting her presence. Poor, stupid Timmy Turner.

"I wanted to apologize," he called, voice cracking. A hard, heavy object sailed through the air and if he hadn't the common sense to avoid it, would have landed on his head and rendered him unconscious. It was a book from Lorenzo's library; he recognized it. Blinking, he glanced at it and then the creature levitating another to smack him upside the head with.

"I will say this again- leave. _Now_. I cannot be held accountable for my actions or the randomly falling objects that might find your head a suitable center of gravity. Nor can I be held accountable if you spontaneously combust because I find it _entertaining_," she growled, practically flinging the last word at him.

"I didn't mean it, Wanda, really…" he replied, sidestepping another object, this one their old fishbowl. The bowl shattered on impact; pieces flew everywhere. Timmy dodged a few shards and the rest, swayed by a mysterious breeze, managed to miss him. (Lorenzo still had the vestiges of his old magic, much to Wanda's disgust).

"I protectyou, I defendyou, I keep you from making the worst decision in your life and committing murder, but you don't care. You lash out at me, condemn me, and insinuate that the heaviest loss in my life is my fault because I take masochistic pleasure in other people's pain. I do all I can to help you, I even showed you one of the most painful moments in my life and you hurt me again?

"I don't know what I'm supposed to say, but I do know one thing. I need a break. If you can't watch yourself long enough to spare me, then by all means, snap at Lorenzo. I won't stop you. I won't stop him from raping you again like I did today. You're welcome, by the way.

"You're not appreciative of anything. You were hurt, yes, but you're not dead. We stopped you from committing suicide and you reward us by being just as selfish as you were then. We made the best of a bad situation and you act like we let you do whatever you wanted.

"I won't pretend what you said didn't hurt, Timmy. I would rather you left me alone. To put it bluntly, I can't stand the sound of your voice right now."

With that, a magical shield enveloped the treehouse and flung Timmy aside. The treehouse vanished, replaced by empty space. Whether she'd relocated the house or simply hidden it from view, he couldn't tell, but he knew one thing. He wasn't going to see her for a while.

* * *

Morning dawned bright and early, the brilliant sunshine lighting up every corner of Timmy's room. He moaned, curling up further in the covers. In due time, he fell asleep again, mindless of the fact Wanda's normal waking never took place. By the time he awoke, it was around eleven and Sophie was pounding on his door. Since the shy nine year old only spoke out when it was important, he blinked, confused. Last night's events hadn't set in yet.

"Wake _up_!" she roared and, to his surprise, a second fist joined hers. The door handle jiggled and Gary, Sophie at his heels, burst into the room. Mousy brown hair neatly pulled back in a ponytail contrasted his greasy, slicked back raven hair. The two themselves were a study in contrast, but their tempers matched evenly. Sophie tapped her foot agitatedly and Gary, never one to sit by, darted forward, ripped off the covers, and snarled in his creator's face. Timmy stared back, nonplussed at having his imaginary friend in his face merely seconds after reawakening.

"Where the hell _is _she?" he growled, face literally five inches away. Bewildered, he continued to stare back. Where was who? Tootie? She vanished randomly. Vicky? Well, who _cared_? Wait…who were they talking about?

He managed a weak "huh", utterly lost. Gary sunk a fist into his stomach; Timmy bolted into alertness and glanced at Sophie. The nine year old twisted her hands and toyed nervously with her hair. All the while, she glanced out the window and then at them. Pissed and tempted to punch his creation back, Timmy instead followed her gaze. The treehouse was missing…still.

Perplexed, guilt nagging at him, he blinked and it reappeared- completely empty. Brown and blue eyes widened in shock and he found himself being dragged out of bed in his pajamas, down the stairs, and outside. Sophie muttered darkly under his breath but they ignored her. There were more pressing matters at the moment.

A thorough search of the treehouse told them everything personal had been removed. It resembled his hang out three years ago and he shuddered, sensing nothing remotely like them here. It was like they never lived here.

Sophie was analyzing what little she could and came up empty as well. Befuddled, she glanced at Gary, advancing on his creator. Timmy instinctively retreated to where their bed had been. Its absence disturbed him and further enraged him.

Growling, he kicked and punched at him, sending him into the wall. The two exchanged blows while Sophie shut her eyes, concentrating on the magical signature and where it might lead. It grew fainter the farther she tracked it, but it was still there, accompanied by an almost imperceptible male fairy she knew to be Cosmo. Wherever Wanda had fled to, she'd taken him with her. She shuddered, glancing at them. This did not bode well at all.

"Guys? I hate to interrupt your strange bonding rituals, but I don't think Wanda's coming back."

The words hit them like a ton of bricks and they halted immediately, staring blankly. At once, Gary accused Timmy and they began to argue, their voices filling the room. She stomped her foot, but unable to distract them, she slammed a chair down. The resounding echo silenced them effectively.

"Maybe ever. I think she went after Cosmo's soul."

* * *


	14. Hanging by a Thread

Author's Note/Disclaimer: Okay, sorry for the way, way long delay with this. I honestly didn't start writing it until a week ago. I promise to be better with this, considering there are probably a couple chapters left and then wow, TOS and soulfulsin are finished. Jeez.

Fairly Oddparents does not belong to me. It belongs to Butch Hartman and Nickelodeon.

Chapter Fourteen: Hanging by a Thread

(Marseilles)

The wind whistled through a wall crack; its frigidity chilled her to the bone. However, the creature nestled on her lap slept soundly, supernaturally so. The only indication he slept, rather than died, was the steady rise and fall of his chest. Lamentably, its movement, at first strong, grew weaker and she swallowed hard, painfully aware how little time she truly had. Regardless, she shivered, unable to quell the fear running rampant in this place and the memories it invoked. Yet if she failed to combat the past, she would lose her future with him.

Swallowing hard, she clenched her eyes shut as though this simple action might dispel the nightmares. Closing them, however, only brought them back in full force. If she turned her head in one direction, she felt Juandissimo's hands shoving off her shirt, her pants, and any other article of clothing. If she turned in another, she felt him forcing his way inside her with all the passion and ruthlessness of a wild beast. Tears streamed down her face, but she obstinately wiped them away. The only creature capable of helping her now was herself and she had to face her past, not run away squealing like a petrified dog, its tail between its legs.

The one thing she truly needed, above anything else, was a chance to face him once more and assert her power over him. Yet how could she accomplish this when his murderer lay unconscious? In the void, she'd come face to face with that part of herself she'd lost months ago, but it stood to reason other creatures might reside there as well. If she could draw forth Juandissimo as she recalled him, machoness and personality intact, she might be able to accomplish what she set out, locate her beloved Cosmo, and battle Remy/Eschcolex. The tasks before her daunted her, but she had no choice in the matter. It was either that or lose him for good and live her life wracked with guilt over the fact it was her fault.

How indeed did a creature find its way into the void without dying first? Part of her was tethered there, still completely sane and present. Perhaps if she tugged on it, she might be drawn into the world herself. Unfortunately, that also left the very real possibility of, without an anchor in this world, floating adrift. She shuddered, clutching Cosmo all the tighter. The prospect hardly appealed to her.

Then again, if it meant a continued existence with Cosmo…

"No!"

The cry was such a violent imposition on her thoughts, she leapt to her feet to locate the source. Cosmo dropped onto the bed and rolled onto his side, still utterly oblivious to the world. Wand in hand, she scrutinized all aspects of the room to ascertain its origin. Other than the wind's comments, nothing spoke. She panted, chest heaving, already unnerved. That voice sounded so familiar, almost like Cosmo…

"You can't leave them."

Again, the voice, but now, a small drop in her magic levels as well. Whoever beckoned, it drew upon her as its prime energy source. Only one creature was bonded tightly enough to her to accomplish this task and she gulped, brandishing her wand. Sparks flew warningly, landing on the sheets and setting them ablaze. Swiftly, she pounded and the flames died out. The eerie, disembodied voice continued, sending shivers down her spine. Her arm hairs stood on end.

"Call Sophie to you."

"Cosmo?" she cried, rubbing her upper arms. _Oh, please don't tell me I'm going insane. That's the last thing I need right now. Well, that and Juandissimo reappearing, but I guess I'm going to have to contend with **that** nasty reality soon enough._

No answer, but the wind rattled the branches against the window fiercely. Magic ensured no wind actually entered through the open stone windows, but the cracks in the wall overrode it. Shuddering once more, she laid her head upon Cosmo's chest to make sure he was in fact sans a soul. A trickle heartbeat reached her ears, definitely not the result of his being strong enough to speak. Then where was the voice coming from?

Mentally, she ticked off who it _couldn't _be. Neither of her godchildren were here and even Timmy wouldn't be cruel enough to play this type of trick. The transistor might be capable of producing an oddity like that, but Tootie had it and was no longer in this realm anyway. Lorenzo had no magic, at least, none so powerful, and he too was back in Dimmsdale. Mark and Vicky were completely unaware of the matter, which left only Remy and his demon friend. Part of her longed badly to discover it was a cruel prank, but the other wished just as badly it was really him reaching out to her.

"Cosmo?" she called again and the lightest caress on her face followed. His bangs lifted and fell according to the breeze and when she touched his hand, it was strangely warm. That gave her all the answer she needed.

Shutting her eyes again, she leaned over and kissed him softly on the mouth. Her fingers ran through his full green hair once and she fell back on her knees to caress his cheek. Glancing at him once more to make sure nothing bad would happen in the span it took for her to grab Sophie, she cast a magical ward around the castle. Only magic matching her magical signature (and her goddaughter's) could enter.

"I love you…" she whispered and then rushed to embrace him tightly once more. "And I promise you, by all that is sacred, I will return as soon as fairy possible."

* * *

(Timmy's house, Sophie's room, 8 p.m. PST)

Sophie perched on her bed and sighed, running her fingers over a well worn copy of another fairy spellbook. Would this one give her the answers she sought? It seemed dubious, honestly. Though its must permeated the room and belied its age, she hardly believed in the fairy tale ending any more. After all, what had fairies brought her but grief and trouble? Yes, she loved her fairy godmother, but magic clearly wrought no miracles. If anything, it ensured a harder life for both humans and fairies.

She sighed, wishing something would leap out at her and she could simply escape. Yet the more her fingers traced the letters, the more she immersed herself in ancient magick (not all of it English) and forced herself to learn French, the more she labored, the less she found. Her heart sunk as she painstakingly placed this book aside into the pile for "maybe". Already quite large, it threatened to overturn with this new addition.

Her entire room was a series of "maybes", "look again", "possibilities". She couldn't bring herself to discard of a single book and deem it unlikely. Truthfully, she had a hard time believing that out of all these tomes, nothing provided an answer. Somewhere, immersed in the French, the nonsense, and the veiled violence, laid her solution. Regardless of what she'd learned from Juandissimo and Wanda, she believed wholeheartedly if magic caused it, magic could fix it. There was just the matter of finding the correct counter spell.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted her thin, wavering brown line snap onto a pink one, but thought nothing of it. Right now, her mind, too boggled down with anxiety, hardly noticed at all. She reached for yet another tome, placed it tenderly into her lap, and leaned her head close enough to rub her nose against the page. She was tired, so very tired, of looking fruitlessly. But she told herself, 'it's in the next one, the next one…it's here somewhere. It has to be'.

"Magic can hurt as much as it helps," Wanda murmured, floating over to her side. "It, like the power of words, can inflict far more damage than anyone anticipates. The two can wrench souls apart into oblivion, make them writhe in agony, or pilot them straight into pleasure and ecstasy. Magic and words are only transitory, like human lives are to us. Yet their effects linger on…"

Sophie turned, frowning lightly. Wanda plucked the book from her lap and scanned it, prodding it with her wand. It caught fire and then burned itself out on her carpet. Dismayed, Sophie skittered away as swiftly as the carpet would permit her. She eyed Wanda as though the wand might combust her next. It rested comfortably in her hand, however; dormant.

"Magic, like words, can be used for evil. The wrong word or spell can destroy a person's life or leave them in a depression so deep, they may never recover. Words, when you think about it, have a supernatural power. If Remy hadn't pledged his allegiance to Eschcolex, then his words would have been squandered and his grief over Juandissimo's death insignificant. Because he gave voice to his obsession, it was allowed to continue.

"But words and spells alone cannot be held fully accountable. Indeed, actions and emotions play a part. If I hadn't let Juandissimo's actions hold such sway over my emotions and I hadn't let Timmy's words affect them as well, I wouldn't be here in the first place.

"I know this might sound like a lot of psychobabble to you, but that was a fancy way of disguising my real request. Sophie, I need you. I'm going after Cosmo's soul in the void and in order to do that, I have to combat the parts of myself that I lost thanks to Juandissimo. I have to face what happened to me and live with it. I can't do that yet and because of that, I may lose Cosmo forever."

She hung her head, abashed, and Sophie gently brushed a curl behind her ear. When she sat like that, she resembled a porcelain figure, albeit one equipped with delicate translucent wings and a shimmering crown. Oddly, she felt protective over her and wished she hadn't been hurt as badly as she'd witnessed, if not worse. Good creatures didn't deserve this type of torture, especially not someone so kind hearted and compassionate. Wanda offered her a feeble smile and then rose swiftly, glancing about to ascertain whether Timmy had discovered she'd returned.

She certainly hoped not. After his rash, inconsiderate comments, she'd rather face a few of her previous godchildren than him. Still, she kept mum about it in front of Sophie. It wasn't any of her business and if it hadn't been for Juandissimo, she'd never have involved her very personal affairs with her godchildren. Then again, Juandissimo had turned her completely topsy-turvy, so she wasn't that surprised.

Sophie cocked her head, wondering what on earth Wanda had mused on, and then decided not to ask. Instead, she rose, eying the ash pile distastefully, and then her piles of pathetic obsession. Wanda needed her help and she came first, not her own selfish desires. Besides, there'd be plenty of time to figure everything out afterwards…if there _was _an afterwards. She'd no idea what Wanda planned, but it sounded rather dangerous and desperate. And if Juandissimo had taught her anything, it was that desperate creatures and love often ended badly.

"Of course I'll help, Wanda. What do you want me to do?" she murmured, watching her drift up to her level, which wasn't that hard considering there was virtually no difference in height.

Wanda smiled grimly. "Keep me sane…and if it looks like I'm lingering too long, bring me back. Can you do that?"

"I'll try…" she whispered, none too confident. How could she bring her back? And from where? Where was she going that could spell insanity? What on earth was going on? Why did it feel like she only had half the story? Gah! Just because she was nine didn't mean that she deserved to be kept in the dark.

"There is no try. There is only do," Wanda replied, a half smile framing the corners of her lips. She hugged her lightly, held up her wand, and the two were gone before Timmy, Lorenzo, or anyone else realized anything happened.

* * *

(Marseilles, 3:23 a.m. approx)

Sophie glanced around wondrously, gaping at the architecture. A beautiful four poster bed, red velvet drapes concealing its entrance, stood in the center of the room. To the right sat a wooden bureau and atop it was a small antique mirror. The wind whistled through the open window, but glass shards clung to its corners. Apparently, someone had broken it, perhaps in a fit of rage. Sophie shuddered- despite the beauty of the room, she sensed great fury lingering and emanating from Wanda.

"You hate this place, don't you?" she murmured, pivoting as Wanda drew back the curtains to reveal Cosmo, breathing shallowly and limp on the sheets. She flew immediately towards his side and pulled a large, blood stained tome. Sophie gulped, unnerved. Nothing good could come from that.

In fact, when she opened it, it shrieked and a large, unpleasant stain covered the front page. It sparkled red as though it had previously circled through a magical user's veins. When Wanda's fingers caressed the contents' page to ascertain the location of her spell, a large paper needle leapt up, pricked her deeply, and then drank deeply of her blood. Sophie's eyes widened and she jumped to break the contact, but Wanda held up her hand to stop her. Helpless, she watched her get woozy and then, at long last, the needle disappeared.

"…requires a blood sacrifice," she whispered, rubbing her temples and swaying slightly. Sophie crawled across the bed and wrapped her arms around her to prevent her from falling facefirst into the sheets. Pink sparkles danced around her index finger and healed the wound, but didn't replace the lost blood. The book seemed content to keep it.

Swallowing hard, she eyed the book and then the fairy wielding it capriciously. Wanda offered her a weak smile she did not return. Her "this is a very bad idea" senses were throbbing. Maybe if she convinced her to choose another tome, any other spell, she might change her mind. Nothing light came out of blood sacrifices and dark magic.

"When you said 'keep me sane' and 'bring me back', what did you mean? Where are you going?" she cried, on the verge of panic. She remembered her fairy godmother under the influence of dark magic and had no desire to repeat the experience. Not only this, but the combination of blood and her words made her wonder if she was going to return alive, never mind unscathed. She didn't want to bear witness to her death.

Wanda smiled cryptically but said nothing. Instead, she thumbed through the tome until the pages eddied in an unseen whirlwind and then halted on a particularly gruesome illustration of a fairy's soul being ripped from their still breathing body. The figure stumbled, vomiting blood, until it collapsed and a sinister demon hovered over like the angel of death. In fact, a scythe materialized and slashed the creature open while unearthly wails erupted. Sophie thought she was going to be sick, especially with the accompanying gore.

Certain Wanda was making the mistake of her life, she reached towards the book to snatch it out of her hands and prevent any further catastrophes. The thing snarled, baring fangs out of the spine, and snapped them menacingly at her hand. Blood sparkled on the tips and she realized, stomach lurching, that if the blood sparkled as Wanda's had, then it couldn't be ordinary blood. It had to be fairy blood, which meant other fae had done this in the past. And oh, where was the trash bin when she needed it?

"I'm sorry, sweetie," she murmured, "but you can't come."

Then, clearing her throat, she intoned:

"Les spiriteux du passé, aide moi.

(The spirits of the past, help me).

Je souhaite retrouver mon mari

(I wish to find again my husband)

J'espirite que ma sang marche et il est a ton satisfaction

(I hope that my blood works and is to your satisfaction)

It faut necessite que je trouve…s'il vous plait, entend ma crie.

(It's necessary I find him; please, hear my cry/plea)."

For a split second, Sophie thought nothing had happened and, frankly, relief flooded her. No creepy spells and no possibility of Wanda hurting herself. Sure, it might upset her to discover that one way to locate Cosmo's soul had failed utterly, but at least she wouldn't resort to such obviously black magick. She exhaled slowly, greatly relieved. Why should Wanda use dark magick anyway? It'd made her a horrible creature the last time…

The instant she thanked her lucky stars the spell hadn't worked, a large black ball of energy enveloped Wanda's chest. She gasped, batting at it, and Sophie tried to help, but it sensed her and flung her against the wall. She slumped down, dazed. The next few moments passed like eternity, yet in reality took seconds.

A tainted pink energy tore from her chest and Wanda screamed, writhing in pain. The pink fairy twisted this way and that, but the energy grabbed hold, seizing every tendril and shaking her to drain the last drop. Empty, she was flung against Cosmo and there she lay, agonizingly still. Only the minute lifts and drops of her body indicated life at all. Otherwise, with her pale face and rigid figure, she might have been a corpse. Sophie whimpered, clutching her hands to her mouth.

Unsteadily, she crept towards the bed and cradled Wanda in her lap. A very thin, weak pink sliver trailed from her hands and bound itself to her brown. She understood the implication innately- lifeline. Wanda's essence was on the other end and the further she descended into that world, the tighter the line would become. If she let it snap…then she'd lose Wanda forever. She had to rein her in. She just hoped she was capable of it…

"Good luck, Wanda-san."

* * *

_Forever faded into the streams of consciousness and death. Simply plunging herself into its depths illuminated her path faintly. Ghosts, phantoms, and figments lurked ahead, their memories returning upon her arrival. The three creatures she sought lay somewhere in this catacomb of eternal night. Part of her relished the void and the other longed to locate Cosmo and hightail it out of here. He was her hikari, her light. Now more than ever, she belonged to the underworld and she needed the sun to drag her aboveground. _

"_Cosmo?" she called, shivering and running her translucent hands along her arms. A few specters halted, stunned to spot a living creature amongst their ranks. However, their awareness of others had dwindled to nothing thanks to their longevity and they gave her only a fleeting glance. None of them were the creatures she sought._

_A brittle wind from nowhere ruffled her hair and then tousled her wings. The breeze, at first only bitterly cold, began to rip and tear into her like a savage beast. She cried out, batting at thin air desperately. Tears streamed freely down her face and she rubbed angrily at her eyes to stop, but the agony of her wings wrenched from her back made her scream. It was like having an arm or a leg yanked by a thousand pound press and then chopped into pieces by an ax. _

"_You break too easily," a voice whispered. "How can you hope to reclaim him when you are not whole yourself?"_

_A bizarre pink light enveloped her and in it, she spotted her twinkling fairy blood. Yet it wasn't like any other she'd seen. It reeked of dark magick and when it trickled out of her body, it burned like acid. She shuddered, unable now to stop crying or prevent her cries. Meanwhile, the blood continued to stream and she howled._

"_You are tainted by his deeds. How can you hope to share telepathy and white magick with him when you are accustomed to the darkness?"_

_Then, a sensation she had never experienced- her stomach swelled and she knew inherently she was pregnant. The creature ripped its way out and its claws gnashed what little skin remained. It had the figure of a demon, body twisted and gnarled, sinuous and skeletal, but when it turned to her…it had Juandissimo's face. This time, she was so stunned, she actually couldn't scream at all. She could only stare in dull horror._

"_You are no longer solely his. You have broken marriage bonds and the link of telepathy by desecrating it with Juandissimo's actions. How can you unite what has been seared away?"_

_Then, the blood stopped oozing, her back stopped aching from the loss of her wings, and her stomach healed. She shivered, hugging herself, but she had no arms. Dumbstruck, she stared as the pink light grew closer and slowly developed into a figure she recognized, one she'd seen every day when she glanced into the mirror. It was the one telling her she had to return…and it had her arms, brilliant pink hair and eyes, and sang of the purity she once possessed. When she saw her, she wanted to weep, but no tears would come. She'd cried herself out._

"_Not all of these events are your fault, of course, but they have led to the state in which you are, my dear," she said, reaching up to touch her with her own hands and arms. The sensation induced another shiver, but she forced herself to calm. She needed this part of herself because this was the side that fit so perfectly with Cosmo. She might have regained her memories, but she'd lost this. Yet she had no idea how to reclaim it._

"_Come with me and help me find him…" she whispered and her replica shook her head, floating aside. Cosmo was behind her, but when she tried to fling herself at him, he faded away. A lump surfaced in her throat, but she thought she was grasping what occurred in this world. Cosmo wasn't hers yet because the her he belonged to wasn't part of the whole. Until she regained her arms, purified her blood and spirit, and cemented herself, she wasn't going to get him back, either._

"_You must find Juandissimo and heal yourself before you can aspire to hold Cosmo again. Until you can come to terms with Juandissimo's actions, you will remain adrift. And I cannot help you nor will I rejoin you until I know we are compatible."_

_The words penetrated deeply and resounded like a gong. Her other half raised her arm and she was flung back into the real world._

* * *

(Dimmsdale, CA, Timmy Turner's kitchen, seven p.m. PST)

Lorenzo DeMedici propped his chin up on his palm and stared evenly at his former protégé and sire. Timmy stared determinedly at the wall and idly kicked Gary, who was seated across from him. This was a lovely little dinner party they were having, considering no one had talked in the past hour. Instead, they all looked around and glared, united by one creature that hadn't shown up all day.

"You drove her away," Gary snarled finally, kicking his creator soundly in the leg. Timmy swore and then kicked him back hard in the shin. It was hard to tell which face wore more hatred, Gary's or Timmy's. They were both frozen in snarls and grimaces.

"That's a rather odd way to say you hate someone, by playing footsie," Lorenzo said idly. "Though I suppose when I see you two screwing around upstairs, I perhaps can write it off as sexual tension?"

Timmy stared blankly, at first too stunned to respond. He opened his mouth, shut it, and then glanced at Gary. The imaginary boy's eyes were narrowed to slits and he grabbed the salt shakers as if tempted to cram them down someone's throat to prove he didn't lust after any boy. Naturally, Timmy continued to stare blankly and Lorenzo chuckled, amused.

"Ah, Timmy, Timmy, Timmy. Why didn't you _tell _me you liked greased up imaginary friends who speak poor English? I could have improvised," Lorenzo said, grinning cattily.

"But I suppose that would be like masturbation, would it not? He _is _part of your imagination, after all. Tsk, tsk, smart enough to wish for an imaginary friend but not nearly intelligent enough to figure out which end of the sword is up."

The wheels in Timmy's mind finally churned and he snatched the butter knife off the table. Furious, he brandished it at his throat and growled. Gary rolled his eyes, intrigued but not surprised. He rested his elbows on the table and decided to watch. Hey, there was nothing good on TV anyway. Might as well watch his creator and another disaster from his head go at it.

"Do you know what this is?" he hissed, twisting it this way and that in the light. Lorenzo had to admit, that thing looked positively deadly…to a bug. The knife's edge was so dull; he'd have better luck scratching him with his fingernails than cutting him open with that. Nonetheless, since he knew Timmy was a bit thick, he was going to indulge him and then laugh afterwards. Heaven knew he hadn't had a good laugh at his expense in a long, long time.

"You finally learned your utensils! Bravo, my boy!" he smirked, clapping. "I knew you had it in you. Now, next we're going to learn just what on earth a spork is."

Timmy, taken back, continued to stare. The knife slipped from his hands and clattered to the poor floor that never saw it coming. Aggravated, he dashed madly towards the drawer and yanked everything out in his haste to find a butcher knife. Gary's eyes widened, but he remained seated. This was getting good. The trailers for tonight's episode hadn't nearly given away everything.

Seizing it, he gripped the handle tightly and strode towards him. He raised it to strike when his arm suddenly froze. Behind him, eyes narrowed to slits, floated Wanda. She gave him an incredibly dirty look, rested on the table, and scrutinized everyone. Still fresh from her latest encounter in the void, she was still pale and clammy. Occasionally, she'd shudder deeply and hug herself to ascertain her arms were indeed still attached.

"Timmy Turner! I leave for one day and you're already at each other's throats? Is this Lord of the Flies? Are you three capable of maintaining a relationship without trying to kill each other? Do I have to step in every time? I pop in for five seconds to make sure everyone's all right and I see you with a butcher knife! Why can't you act like a _human_?" she growled, waving her wand a bit too harshly and sending the knife and him sailing towards the drawer. Lorenzo laughed, imagining him compacting into a knife as well, when she spun around on him too.

"And you! Couldn't you figure out on your own that leaving Timmy alone might be a good idea? Hmm? Or do you enjoy having sharp objects brandished at your throat when you have no magic to defend yourself? Maybe you _want_ to be killed again," she snarled and Gary bolted, in no mood to be her next target. The kitchen door swung back and forth and the sounds of the front door slamming shut echoed through the house. A thin, complacent smile flitted across her face but died quickly.

"Like I _want _Cosmo to be wrenched away and lose him forever," she snapped, directing this last comment at Timmy, who dropped his gaze and flushed shamefully. "But apparently I do, because I live in this house and like everyone else here, I'm a glutton for punishment."

"Wanda…" Timmy whispered, so faint she had to strain to hear him. "I'm really, really sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you like that. You know I love you."

Wanda said nothing. For all the impact his statement had, he might as well never had said it. Instead, she shut her eyes and grasped her wand tightly. Her knuckles whitened painfully. Staying in the void for a day had drained her more than she thought, but she had no choice. Without Cosmo, her magick levels were depleting much faster than she could renew them.

"Are you okay?" he whispered, reaching out to grab her off the table. She whacked him with her wand and his sleeve caught fire. Panic stricken, he beat at it until Wanda absently minded held up her wand and it crumbled into ashes. Timmy blinked blankly.

"I…I'm going to be gone for a while. I'll come in once in a while to check on you, but that's it. I need…" she glanced around, losing her train of thought. She scanned the kitchen like she'd never seen it before and Timmy's frown deepened. Once again, he reached towards her, but she floated out of range.

Exhaling deeply, she waved her wand once more and cast a spell over Lorenzo to prevent him from harming Timmy in her absence. Another wave procured a device to tell her when they definitely merited her input, one to stop murder from occurring, and one last one to make sure Vicky and Mark never came up unless it was an emergency. Once finished, she glanced at Timmy as if to determine whether he deserved a hug or not.

Ultimately, however, she capitulated that since he wasn't going to see her for weeks at a time and he already longed for Tootie, she might as well do something. She offered him the largest smile she could muster, which turned out to be the slightest upraising of her lips. With that, she nodded curtly at Gary and Lorenzo, held up her wand once more, and vanished into the night.

* * *

Months passed, Wanda occasionally popping in to lecture Lorenzo and force him to seek redemption for his actions. She also witnessed the many, many arguments between Timmy, Tootie, and Gary over minute things, but decided, for the most part, to stay out. Meanwhile, she strengthened herself for the battle ahead… 


	15. Tests and Trials

Author's Note/Disclaimer: I won't lie. I procrastinated on TOS and I apologize. A lot. But Nightmare, No Bounds, and whatever else I've been working on at the time. On one hand, I got a lot done for that, but, on the other, I neglected TOS and I'm sorry.

Fairly Oddparents is not mine. You won't hear that for too much longer, either.

Chapter Fifteen: Tests and Ordeals

The light blinded others to the truth. Darkness provided nourishment, security, sanctity, and sanity. Light obfuscated the issues and the darkness left enemies groping blindly. Light burned and darkness soothed. In the darkness lay peace and absolute death. With every cell in her body, she craved the darkness.

* * *

Lorenzo DeMedici folded his arms across his chest and leaned over the couch's side to watch Timmy. Months had passed, uneventful except for the intriguing love triangle. Wanda had habitually popped in to ensure no one had killed each other yet, though she hadn't needed to. As he spent more and more time alone, he found himself growing closer to a conclusion. What must be done. If Timmy wanted him dead, perhaps the best thing was… 

"What the hell are you staring at?" Timmy snapped, brushing a single lock of creamy chestnut hair away from his beautiful cerulean eyes. Lorenzo stared, unable to tear his eyes away from the porcelain like skin, how his cheekbones accentuated his face, and those flawed buckteeth only further demarked him as a god. Though he remained lean, his skin no longer dangled off the bone like a bungee jumper and his complexion accrued a healthier tone. In fact, he resembled the naïve, gullible Timmy Turner he'd seduced. At the recollection, his heart skipped a beat and his normally tight jeans shrunk a little more. God, he wanted him.

Today he donned all black, including a turtleneck despite the stifling heat of an Indian summer. It ended neatly at his chin and what a sculptured chin it was. Not thick and bulbous like his father's, but rounded to a slight point. He remembered trailing kisses down that chin, crossing his Adam's apple, and heading for his shoulder bones. Shoulder bones which were clearly defined, despite the sweater concealing them. The stitching and bones matched perfectly, causing him to imagine caressing both before sliding his hands underneath to splay his fingers across a silky soft stomach.

A very large, sharp rock struck Lorenzo in the forehead and he winced, rubbing the spot gingerly. It bled and he swore, running into the kitchen to cot the flow. Timmy snickered, sliding down the banister (Wanda loathed that and predicted he'd crash into something sooner or later). He got caught on the polished edge, however, and stifled a cry- his pants were riding up painfully in the crotch. Once Lorenzo, pressing a hand towel to his wound, strode out, it was _his _turn to snicker appreciatively. Timmy Turner, technical genius.

"I pity any children you'll have, Timothy. With any luck, they'll inherit your sense of recklessness and careen down banisters only to damage their genitalia. Ah, but that's supposing you haven't caused irreconcilable harm to your own. Have you?" he smirked, cocking his head.

"Would you like a test run to ensure everything is in proper, functioning order?"

Falling off and onto the carpeted stairs, his head struck one in particular. Truthfully, he wasn't certain he longed to laugh at his foolishness or rush to his aid. On one hand, if he did the latter, he'd be able to touch him for a few precious seconds. A grin blossomed and, hastily tossing aside the towel, he darted to the bottom. Timmy, despite his newfound headache, scrambled backwards to evade him. Of course, he forgot his anti self was not only larger, but faster. Within seconds, he'd captured him to press against his chest. All the color drained from Timmy's face and, momentarily he didn't even fight. He thought he was going to be nauseous.

"No Wanda to save you," he crooned. "No Cosmo to perform an idiot's rescue. No Tootie to pine after you. No Gary to laugh at your failure. There's only me. Who you gonna call, Timmy?"

Timmy squirmed, kicking madly and elbowing him in the stomach. Lorenzo fought to hold on, but when he scored a shot into his privates, he bellowed and released him. Pure, unadulterated hatred burned in the thirteen year old's eyes. He looked fully capable of ripping him apart with his bare hands. Lorenzo retreated, but eased into a defensive position. This was like their sparring before, no different. Naturally, Lorenzo was now magic-less, but that hardly changed much. Physical fights required no magic, anyway.

Timmy lunged and Lorenzo sidestepped him neatly, but the brown haired boy was not stupid enough to charge into the couch. Instead, his eyes darted back and forth to locate a weapon. Retrieving the fire stoker, he hefted it and thrust forward, nearly hitting him square in the chest. A little panicked now, he snatched a thick pillow to parlay the attacks. Timmy scoffed, thrusting at his crotch, then swiping at his neck. Lorenzo ducked just in time for the stoker to graze a bookshelf and the TV antennae. The wire twanged.

Lorenzo back-stepped, kicking Timmy in the knee just as he dove forward. The attack caught the boy off balance and he landed hard on his stomach on the rug. Eyes narrowed loathsomely, he stabbed at his ankles, but he stepped on the metal. Timmy swept it out from under him and it was Lor's time to fall onto the rug. This temporary disability enabled him to leap to his feet and dig it into his neck, namely his jugular vein. Heart fluttering madly now, Lorenzo DeMedici looked into his assailant's blue eyes and saw only murderous intent, no mercy.

"I willkill you. I will avenge everyone you hurt and murdered thoughtlessly. I willmake you suffer for every wrong-doing you've committed, every atrocity you've done to me. I will make you pleadfor mercy, begfor death…and not deliver it. Then, when you least expect it, I will strike you down. I will hear your howls into the night," he hissed, digging it into his neck. To his astonishment, the anti fairy smirked, shoving it and him backwards. The lapse in pressure gave him the chance to rise again and that he did, snatching a rather large and threatening butcher knife.

"Then why must you waste my time delivering fallacies and ultimatums? Come now, child, let us dance," he replied, waving the blade. Its edges blurred as his wrist expertly twisted and manipulated it. Timmy's eyes were drawn to it like moths to a flame.

The stoker shuddered upon Lorenzo's attack and Timmy suddenly snapped to attention to slam into the cabinet. His powerhouse kick struck him in the side and his head rebounded. Lorenzo, since he knew his opponent would spare him nothing, darted forward to press the tip into his throat. Leaden blood pooled on the knife and, shocked, his eyes widened.

"You ask me to kill you. I love you, but if you persist, I will give you your wish. En garde, Timmy Turner. Stand _up_," he growled, spinning the tip and creating a rounded wound. Timmy squawked, but his eyes hardened determinedly. Ducking his head, he crawled beneath the blade's reach and karate chopped his legs. Lor stumbled, but maintained his balance. He kicked him brutally in the chest, hard enough for Timmy to spit up blood.

"Get _up_, fool. I did not waste my time teaching a coward who whimpers pitifully at the sight of a weapon. Get up now or never again," he snarled, the months of pent-up sexual frustration, self anger, and resentment of the situation he'd been forced into contorting his rage into homicide. If the object of his affections preferred this, then so be it. Let no one said he had not warned him.

Timmy shoved harshly against the carpet, spat at Lorenzo's feet, and roared in rage. Fists clenched, he snatched his weapon only to find it pinned beneath his opponent's foot. He attempted to wrench it out only to be kicked in the chest again, this time an inch or so away from his throat. He fell backwards, seeing stars. Lorenzo snarled again, stomping.

"_Get up, bitch_. Get up and face me like a man. Or would you rather you faced me like your father did, a body part strewn across the road thanks to an explosion? I can arrange that, you know," he chided and Timmy surged, no longer caring about the loss of a suitable defense. He spurted backwards, then forwards again, leaping up and landing his foot squarely in the middle of his chest. Lorenzo stumbled, but Timmy wasn't finished. He delivered countless kicks, punches, and head butts, slamming him into the wall. Lorenzo swallowed hard, cornered but still with the blade.

Timmy raised a fist to pound on his chest, but Lorenzo swiftly sliced through the air and flesh. However, the knife plunged an inch before Timmy shrieked, attacking him with the other fist as his right bled furiously. He elbowed him and, in a haze, spun around, but lost his footing. Lorenzo seized him in both arms, hefted the blade up to his throat, and felt him shudder violently. He smirked, kissing the top of his head.

"Hmm. Raping you at knife point. Never done that before, but I suppose there's a first time for everything, isn't there?" he said coldly and a bead of sweat trickled down his forehead. One of his hands snaked out and squeezed his wrist painfully, until the bones grinded together and finally broke. Crying out, he dropped the knife; Timmy pivoted, head butted him in the stomach, and then, raising both fists like he was about to serve a volleyball, attempted to pound him in the chest. At least, he would have succeeded were it not for Lorenzo moving away at the last split second. They slammed hard into the plaster, cracking it and creating an enormous hole. What Lorenzo wouldn't give for the ability to heal himself right now!

Teeth gritted, attempting to drown out the agony, he regained a defensive stance. Timmy spun around, a tad too fast, and shook his head dizzily. Balling his uninjured hand, he hammered it into the side of his head. Blood pooled on his knuckles and he grinned, watching him tumble and then lay rather still. He wasn't unconscious, but he was hardly in the position to fight back. Excellent.

Lorenzo knelt down and straddled him. Bleeding and petrified, Timmy pushed against his chest in a vain attempt to stave him off. No, he'd been waiting too long. He couldn't…wouldn't be shoved away. He thrust his left hand beneath his shirt, stroked his flat stomach, and moved up to his nipples. Leaning forward, he captured his lips in a kiss and tasted the salty, tangy treat of tears. Timmy was crying.

"Wanda…" he moaned, head lolling. "Wanda…"

He snickered, certain she'd ignore his call. Cupping the back of his head in his left hand, he smashed his lips against his and ground himself against him. He let it drop to touch his pants' zip…when a wand point dug fiercely into his spine. Magical sparks shot onto his clothing and he swore, rolling off and accidentally bending his broken wrist behind his back. Pain arched through his body.

"_What _is going on here?" Wanda hissed and Timmy, no longer powerless, sprung up (and instantly regretted it). He snatched the knife off the carpet and would have stabbed his creation in the chest were it not for the pink aura paralyzing his arm. Bewildered, he craned his neck to see her glare at the duo. Her hair was darker than usual and her wings were tattered, like she'd been mauled by an animal.

"Should I _let _you two kill each other off and save myself the trouble of disentangling you every time? Timmy, I am _not _your secret weapon- how _dare _you use me to slip in a finishing blow. Lorenzo…I don't know what to say to you. I really don't," she sighed, lowering herself onto the couch. Her wings fluttered and vanished entirely, darkening her complexion, eyes, and hair another notch.

"I don't have time for this," she snapped, waving her wand and healing them instantly. She then cast a spell to freeze them if another possibly lethal situation occurred, and poofed out as abruptly as she arrived.

* * *

The void, terrifying to most, but to someone as determined as her, her legs merely quaked and her wand hand threatened to expel its weapon. She glanced at Sophie, who smiled weakly and supposedly comfortingly. The last time she'd returned, she'd been so pale, her goddaughter had panicked. This was a great burden for one so young, but she wouldn't trust anyone else to it. Timmy was obviously incapable of keeping a cool head, Lorenzo had never been an option in the first place, and Tootie was off during Fairy World's bidding. Still, at least Sophie was willing to do whatever it took to tether her to this reality. She appreciated that. 

When she touched his brow, she immediately cringed. Over the past few weeks, it'd grown increasingly clammy and rather unpleasant. She knew the longer she delayed, the sooner the inevitable was to occur. And she also knew that this wasn't her first battle, either- even _if _she retrieved his soul and reunited her lost part, she had Eschcolex and his apprentice to contend with. It made convincing Timmy not to murder them, in retrospect, sound like a walk in the park. At least then, she had Cosmo.

"There-there's no other way, right?" she squeaked, hair draping over her right shoulder. "I mean, you can't just magick him here and-"

"No, Sophie," Wanda replied sternly, offering her the largest smile she could muster, which was a mere twisting of the lips. She hugged her tightly, clenched her eyes and teeth, waved her wand once, and returned.

* * *

She shivered, yearning to rub her hands along her goose pimpled arms. Lamentably, the cold sprang not from a temperature decrease but an ache in her soul. She drifted purposefully forward, praying a spell she'd enacted while Sophie slept led her to Juandissimo and not astray. Heaven knew she'd wasted enough time on impracticalities and twiddling her thumbs. Though she dreaded the inevitable interaction, she knew it necessary. She held her head jauntily high, belying the confidence left in the real world. Her spell had also restored other creatures' memories as well and, because of this, one might pave the way if her own instincts proved faulty. Literally, her task required her to take a shot in the dark. 

Another shiver, but of a different nature. She spun, narrowing her eyes at the very pale pink accompanied by the scent of death and decay. How the odor traveled here was beyond her, but she recognized it nonetheless. Rather typical of them to travel together- but Blonda had always been a daddy's girl. Both had perished before Lorenzo became a dot on the radar, Big Daddy thanks to a business deal gone awry and Blonda…actually, she'd no idea why Blonda died. The funeral had shed no light on the matter and the sudden shock she'd experienced through _their _particular bond startled her, but explained nothing.

Twins possessed their own bond, much like creator and creation. In this instance, the feelings conveyed were far weaker than the mental bond of telepathy (shared by both creator/creation and soul mates alike, but varying in strength and acuity). As physical and emotional distance took its toll on their relationship, they shared less and less. In fact, her death was the first sensation she'd received of her in years. Yet now here she was and, if she desired, she might inquiry the why. It passed through her mind to do so, but, again, another waste. The answers to some of life's mysteries must remain that way, for the sake of Cosmo.

Big Daddy scrutinized her and what little color remained in that blanched, apparition's face fled. He floated ahead and clasped her hands in his. In all seriousness, he leaned forward, embraced her, and gestured towards their surroundings. Blonda nodded as he spoke and added nothing. A very thin tendril linked the two's wrists so that when Big Daddy sprang forward to hug her, she jerked as well. If Wanda had brought Sophie along for the ride, she would have been able to say without a grain of uncertainty that Blonda's death had been linked to her father's. Hence, the spiritual bond between the two.

"I knew it," Big Daddy murmured, shaking his head in disgust. "I knew he would drive you to suicide."

Furious, she shoved him away and her pink eyes blazed. She longed for her wand, but perhaps her words would serve better. Still, the void clearly allowed for a level of solidity. Her temper forever at the breaking point thanks to Timmy's quarrels, Tootie's troubles, Lorenzo, and the incredible taxation of locating Cosmo and herself, she acted on what she'd always desired to do, if only she'd the conviction. Drawing her hand back, she slapped him hard for all the times he'd ever insulted Cosmo to her face, for all the insinuations that he couldn't love her because he was too stupid, for all the attempts he'd made on his life, and all the balled up anger she'd ever experienced towards him but kept hidden. If they were in the real world, she most definitely would have broken something.

Blonda's eyes widened while her father staggered, stunned by his eldest daughter's outrageous behavior. All the words she'd never expressed poured out in a molten flow of fury that transformed her pink aura from a thin veil to a fire that stretched out and hit other, less capable fairies. Meanwhile, if she'd shifted her head a fraction behind, she might have seen her soul's other half look on interestedly. It soared away when Blonda caught a glimpse, however.

"I'm here to _rescue _him, thank you very much. I know you never approved of him, Daddy, but he's my true love. You never wanted to hear that and I'm sorry you couldn't get over it, but now is not the time to badger me. In fact, it was never the time to bother me about my choice in husbands. You know why? Because no matter what, I'll stick by him.

"You know why? Because he wasn't conceited, priggish, and a complete jerk like Juandissimo. Cosmo might be less than average at times, but he loves me. And, to someone who destroyed love and hope on a regular basis, you could never understand. You never will understand, either. When this spell wears off, you'll float aimlessly away, unable to understand why I came to you in the first place. And I'd pity you. But I've nary the time."

Her words, more powerful indeed than the blow, struck a chord on their own. Finished with him, she turned towards her sister, who offered the first genuine smile she'd seen in years. The corners of Wanda's lips twisted up, but she was unable to return the gesture. Instead, she directed her question at her and, to her relief; she answered her simply and accurately. Despite her sister's failings (as everyone possessed them), she'd never betrayed her.

"Do you know where I can find Juandissimo?" she inquired politely, ignoring her father, who drifted in a state akin to comatose.

"Yes," Blonda answered swiftly, pointing northwards or whatever passed for north in this place. "I know this may not be the best time or advice, but be careful."

Wanda nodded, hoping the general direction would become clearer as she traveled along. Yet her family had sought her out, perhaps because she continued to live and breathe. It stood to reason that if she traversed far enough, Juandissimo might seek her out as well. _And finish what he started_, she thought, but dared not voice.

"Thank you," she replied and, because she felt obligated, she hugged her tightly. The embrace was returned, albeit with the unrestrained arm. Then, unable to face the pain of the stark reality that her entire family was dead, she passed on ahead.

* * *

She continued, colliding into something rather solid, but, unfortunately, soft as well. Blinking in confusion, she glanced up to find yet another unpleasant figure from her past. Unlike Big Daddy and Blonda, her teal aura shone dimly alone. No husband clutched her arm like some of the others, no lover to support her, and, to her immense relief, no son to mollify her. Out of the corner of her eye, she swore she saw a brilliant pink aura glide in and out. It flitted away too quickly to discern entirely who, but she knew innately. The bizarre notion, that these meetings were no coincidence, caused her to wonder if she was being tested by her other half. She certainly hoped not- mind games were not exactly an arena she relished. Her darker half, perhaps, but not her patience waning and her anxiety at this level. Maybe she was jumping to conclusions. 

"Mama Cosma," Wanda greeted through clenched teeth, remembering the details of her death all too well. This, too, had happened before Lorenzo, but not his awakening. She'd died in Timmy's eleventh year through a rather risky and nearly impossible procedure- trying to reanimate her dead husband. The magical spell had, instead of returning whatever fragments remained of Daniel's soul, rebounded upon her and ripped hers out, subjecting it to the void. In due time, her body perished, unable to sustain any sort of life bereft of a link and way to return her essence to her.

"Why, hello, cuckolding daughter-in-law of mine who never should have touched my precious Cosmo-lolo in the first place," she replied, eyes narrowed. The rest of her statement was ordinary enough, but 'cuckolding'? She'd died way before the mess with Juandissimo and, therefore, should not know a thing. Unless she was merely trying to inflict damage without preconception, then Wanda could overlook it as a stray insult. But something in her eyes told her this was not the case.

"I beg your pardon?" Wanda replied, speaking through clenched teeth. Of course, she normally spoke this way when Mama Cosma lived, but the compacted insult irritated her greatly. Behind her, the ghostly second half shook its head in disapproval and then vanished, utterly unseen by either individual.

Nodding her head towards the vast expanse Wanda had yet to travel, a very nasty smirk covered her face. She held her head haughtily, like the pink haired fairy was beneath her. Wanda slowly counted to ten mentally, bracing herself for the catty remarks entailing. She barely steeled herself for thirty seconds before the first one exploded.

"Juandissimo told me all about it. How you begged and pleaded with him to take you. How you shoved my precious Cosmo away until he cried. How you _hurt _him. You ought to be ashamed of yourself. I warned my Cosmo you were bad news. But no, he had to run off and act like he knew better," she huffed, folding her arms across her chest. Wanda glared, tempted to slap her like she had her father, but she sensed this goading served a purpose. Still, she was in her way and she badly needed to see the source of her frustrations. Mama Cosma was just a distraction.

"And now, look where he is. In this void with his mother. Ah, but at least we'll be united," she finished, smiling benignly. Wanda yearned to wipe that smile clear off her face and send it and her into next Wednesday. Nonetheless, she knew better. While her confrontation with her father had been a result of never expressing her feelings about him, she'd habitually told Mama Cosma what she felt of her. Her death hadn't changed things too much.

"No, you won't," Wanda replied flatly. "You will never be with him because he's my love. Tell me where you heard that awful racket of lies and begone."

Smirking, confident she'd won, Mama Cosma replied, "Why should I do that? So you can be reunited with your _real _lover?"

Shaking furiously, she snapped, "You know what? I'll find him myself."

* * *

The air temperature, which she'd always assumed was null, dropped enough to see her breath. She rubbed her hands along her arms, but the cold penetrated her soul. It was the frigidity of heartless, senseless violence and rape. It fed off her anxieties, frustrations, and securities and reduced her to a shell of her former fairy self. Yet here she was, careening towards its gaping maw. She clenched her eyes shut, permitted a single tear to slide down her cheek unabated, and urged herself onward. Once again, the pink flash, but gone before she named it. 

He postured, impossibly alive and despicably attractive. Silky raven locks swayed in a perpetual breeze and his muscles rippled like waves in a pond. His strong jaw worked fiercely as he admired himself in a makeshift mirror. Dead, yes, but still as narcissistic and conceited as always. The only indication he perished at all was the large, blood stained spot in his chest where Cosmo's sword pierced him. She wanted to laugh, mock him derisively, but it hurt too much.

His beautiful magenta eyes scanned the perimeter, but missed her entirely. They instead glimpsed her other half, lingering just beyond mortal eyesight. His face blanched and the fingers grasping his mirror clenched it tightly, breaking the plastic handle. His eyes shifted madly, the look of someone on the brink of capture for a wrong-doing. Nervously, he bowed, but her stern expression never wavered. Panicking, he shot forward and straight into the real deal, who hadn't witnessed the second half of this. She stared at him quizzically and, when she did, her light dissipated, invisible but still lurking in the shadows.

"Mi amor," Juandissimo said, his anxiety lingering. However, at the sight of her darkened hair and features, he gained new hope. She glanced down and discovered herself to be identical to the fairy he'd ransacked. An uneasy feeling developed in the pit of her stomach.

"I have missed you," he said, grinning viciously. She yearned to flee, but her body froze head to foot. Now that she was here, she wished she wasn't. She had the sense she was shaking like a leaf in real life and Sophie was running around the room like a madwoman to find a cure. Poor girl.

"Juandissimo…" she started, but words failed her. She stared, clueless, aware that all the time she'd pursued him, she'd never fully conceptualized what she'd say. She figured locating him would be the difficult part and, magically, she'd find exactly what she searched for. She never anticipated delivering any sort of speech, particularly not to someone who petrified her beyond words. But that was part of it too, wasn't it? She had to face her fears and if not now, then when? She had to face the creature that stole so much from her and tell him to stop haunting her dreams, stop screwing up her life, and return Cosmo to her.

"Yes, mi amor? My beloved?" he whispered, wrapping his arms around her. She chanted mentally, _He can't hurt you. Not here. Not ever. Don't let him._

He nuzzled her neck and the paralysis swept her mouth too. Stubbornly, she wrenched it open again and concentrated on the one thing that might stop him. The one thing that given her a weapon before. Might it help now? It was her only shot. She could distract him now, gather her wits about her later, and then fend him off.

"Cosmo," she said aloud and he stopped, confused. "I'm doing this for Cosmo. _Cosmo_."

It might have been one name, but it gave her more power than she realized. In the absence of her other half, hewas her light. Hewas the one who made godparenting less of a chore and more of a labor of love. Hewas the reason she hadn't become her father's daughter.When she needed him the most, hestabilized and comforted her like no one else. And only she, not Juandissimo, had the right to judge what she was worth.

"Not you," she spoke slowly, gathering strength. "You don't have the right to take my life away from me. You don't have the right to hurt me anymore. They say people can only hurt you if you let them. I refuse to let you hurt me again, Juandissimo. Dead or not, your power over me is over. I will _not _be your puppet.

"My life, my heart, my body, my love, and, most importantly, my _soul _are mine. The only fairy who can lay claim to them is Cosmo, _never _you. Now, if you don't mind, I have a world to save- mine."

Then, the world around her vanished.

* * *

"Well played, my dear," a voice called, and, rubbing the back of her head gingerly, she sat up and opened her eyes only to find herself on the floor of her mind room. Blinking, she stared at the hand proffering help and its owner, her other half. Then she saw the swirling edges beyond her fireplace and the overall gloom of the room. The corners peeled away, replaced by darkness. She whirled around to discover herself back in the void, but still attended by herself. Bewildered, she gawked as she summoned replicas of Big Daddy, Mama Cosma, and Blonda. They hung limply, merely projections of their dead selves. 

"Unfortunately, I cannot say the same for the rest. One out of four a game of hearts does not win," she said delicately, inscribing an X on their chests. The wand sparkles, materializing from an invisible wand, danced lightly in the darkness. Wanda, befuddled, stared blankly.

"You lose, Wanda. These three, they were a test. You failed. You have shown through your temperament that you are not the fairy Cosmo fell in love with. You displayed violence against your father, apathy towards your sister, and, instead of facing Mama Cosma head on, you ignored her. There is no possibility for a rematch or another trial."

Wanda turned the words slowly over in her head, all the while glancing at her other self, who floated there patiently. When she discovered her focus, she smiled serenely.

"I…I can't get Cosmo back?" she replied dumbly, but the other shook her head. "Then what…?"

Gently, she pressed her finger to her lips and Wanda fell silent. She then grinned, waved her invisible wand, and a swirling vortex appeared. Given her experience with anything resembling that, she had to say she wasn't exactly eager to fling herself in. Swallowing hard, she glanced up at her other self expectantly, but she never enunciated herself properly.

All she said was, "Then I wish you the best of luck in the bonus round."

* * *

Whatever she anticipated after landing face first, fresh out of the vortex, it wasn't grass. Spitting it out, she pushed herself up to peer curiously at her new surroundings. While fairies enjoyed their fair share of supernatural phenomena, she could safely say without a grain of doubt or dissension this past year and a half had been the single most taxing, brain-racking, and magically fostered hell she'd ever encountered. Why couldn't she have had a normal godchild? One who wished for toys and candy instead… 

At first glance, this appeared to be similar to one of the universes Tootie told her about, but she doubted Jorgen would suffer her to this. Besides, this wasn't his concoction. It was her other half's, whatever she was up to. Frowning lightly, she started walking since her wings were strangely absent. In fact, her whole body felt a great deal heavier, like a human.

A dirt path lay to her right and, bereft of anything else, she traveled along it. Soon, she found herself in a city not unlike Fairy Square. High, blank buildings rose on both sides and their features were grey and generic. They towered high above, into the cloud cover. Whoever designed this city hadn't put very much effort into it, but at least it reaffirmed the notion this was not an actual place. Stepping into a puddle, she peered curiously at her appearance- human, indeed. No magic crackling at her fingertips, no spells to aid her- whatever her task required, she must do it naturally or pay the price.

Suddenly, fairies and humans spurted past her in a desperate attempt to flee the fire red dragon breathing fire upon their home. His majestic wings spread far, but in actuality, he stood barely bigger than a horse. Still, weaponless and terrified, the creatures sped past to prevent becoming barbecued. Yet in one building, one denizen refused to budge. Rocking back and forth, he catcalled the dragon and waved one obscene finger at him. The dragon, however, paid him little mind, and flew off to terrorize another group. As a passing memento to a pest, he exhaled once more and the building caught fire.

"You must save him," her voice echoed.

"Oh, no," she murmured, shaking her head and staring up at the window. "No, no, no."

Lorenzo DeMedici poked his head out and called down to Wanda. "Why, hello, Wanda. Nice day, isn't it? I hardly fancy being fried to a crisp, so if you please, a rescue might be in order. If not, well, when I fling myself out the twentieth story window, I shall be certain to send my flame riddled corpse atop your glorious hair and bring you along with me.

"Don't mind me. I'm just the damsel in distress."

Wanda sighed and stared at the sun, which accrued her features. She paced, weighing the consequences of her actions. If she rescued him, she'd save a life, but one that had brought her and her family much sorrow. He was Timmy's creation, but his death would benefit everyone. He had no magical ties to Timmy and therefore, if he died, he wouldn't hurt him. The reasons to leave him be far outweighed that to deliver him into safety's arms. He wasn't her godchild, she had no emotional ties to him and though he'd saved her, he'd also tried to kill her and, when that didn't work, sent Timmy after them. His whole existence ensured misery and never-ending anguish.

If she stepped away and waited for him to die, all of their problems would be finished. But how fair would that be to _him_? Despite all his setbacks, despite all the times he came onto her, all the arguments and fights he propitiated, he really was trying to reform. Despite everything, there was the possibility he wanted to change. Should she let him die without trying to make amends? Who truly dictated one's destiny? Could she, in full conscience, deny him life because of his past deeds without considering his future? What about second chances? What about the side of him that was Timmy? If she let him die, was she killing part of her godson? An evil side, definitely, but part of him nonetheless.

Sighing heavily, she gritted her teeth and ran into the apartment complex. The acrid smell of smoke burned her lungs and flames pranced around the stairwell and then the doorway. If she wanted to turn back, she'd die. Lovely.

Climbing, climbing, forever climbing up the stairs while her lungs ached, her eyes teared, and her body increasingly weakened. She stumbled on the ninth, forced herself upright, and continued on. Meanwhile, as clear as a bell, came Lorenzo's voice. He was the most annoying victim she'd ever had the misfortune to meet. If he didn't shut up in about ten seconds…

A beam, collapsing thanks to age, tumbled to the floor before her eyes and blocked the stairwell. Smoke, thick and sulfurous, arrested her breathing. Meanwhile, the deadly dance snapped and exploded at her back and she fell to her knees, unable to stand. How to reach him now? At least the air, sweet and fresher, near the floor assuaged her sore lungs. Yet the fact remained- the stairwell was the only way to climb, was it not? A voice whispered in her head, _Not entirely._

Shaking her head ruefully, she reflected her other self had to up the ante. Perhaps she deduced the higher the stakes, the less likely Wanda would risk life and limb to save Lorenzo. Conversely, however, she'd calculated the measure of this bonus round and its ultimate goal. Lorenzo's life was paltry compared to her true mission and, despite whatever hell she endured to restore him to Dimmsdale to annoy Timmy once more, Cosmo was the true objective. The thought cheered her considerably, since she'd entertained doubts in this level about delivering him and, were this real life, might have deliberated long enough to let him perish. Or would she? She no longer knew herself quite as well as she thought.

Scanning the area, she spotted a fire escape and, shattering the glass with a well placed punch that embedded shards in her fist (but oddly didn't pain her), she wended her way upwards. Outside, the fresh air battled with the smoke and smog to provide both relief and irritation. Rusted rungs threatened to drop her weight, but she clung to the railing desperately. One collapsed entirely, but since she doubted she'd be going down as well, she paid it little mind. With a single minded intensity, she slowly worked.

At long last, yanking herself up onto the rotting wood, she found herself helped not by Lorenzo, but her other self. The burning building vanished, replaced by her mind room once more. Exhaling shakily, coughing erratically, she wiped at her burning eyes. A pink flash flitted about the room while she collected herself, aided by the again invisible/imaginary wand.

"You have passed," she dictated and Wanda sighed in relief. "But there is one more task.

"You must face Eschcolex and Remy, for they hold the keys to Cosmo's soul."

Groaning, she collapsed onto her elbows again. Why couldn't she just _sleep_?

* * *


	16. The End

Author's Note: It's surreal. It really is. This part alone took me nearly a year because I lost interest, owned up to my responsibility, and then didn't again. But that's enough reminiscing. You'll hear more in my letter on DeviantArt to the fans.

For quite possibly the last time, Fairly Oddparents does not belong to me.

Chapter Sixteen: The End

Darkness always pervaded the void. Thus, when Wanda awoke, drained of both magic and emotional strength, the light battered her pupils. Sophie knelt beside her and, gently enveloping her in an embrace, positioned herself on the bed next to Cosmo. Nothing had changed in his physical state since her last venture, but since she knew Eschcolex and Remy would be keener now than ever to grab the lingering part of his soul she laid claim to, it relieved her to see his pale, clammy forehead and detect a very faint heartbeat. Clasping his hand tightly, she brought it to her lips and kissed it tenderly. The reaction occurred so abruptly, she at first didn't realize what was going on. A minute touch, hardly noticeable to anyone else, but his fingertips grazed her cheek. She smiled grimly- if those two wanted the rest of him, they'd have to kill her first.

Sophie uncovered a small, wicker handbasket and opened it, revealing bread, fruits, and jams. She'd about thirty bucks saved and promptly converted it to euros. Any other food she needed she relied on charity…or used Wanda's wand and invoked a spell. Slight fairy blood ran through her veins, enough to permit minimal magic. Yet the most miniscule mental chant to a fairy exhausted her, so she only relied on it as a last resort. Doing it once knocked her out for the duration of the day.

Smiling weakly, she offered her a Granny Smith apple and joined her on the bed. Blinking, she gazed at the pink lines connecting the two godparents. Not only had it thickened, it had also brightened. Uncomprehendingly, she gawked at Wanda, who smiled benignly and munched her apple thoughtfully.

"You're…" she wanted to say, "more whole," but it sounded nonsensical. Wanda nodded encouragingly, releasing Cosmo's hand to seize her goddaughter's. To Sophie, who barely received affection from her, the bewilderment multiplied.

"I'm better than when you first met me," she guided patiently, retrieving her wand to check on Timmy, Lorenzo, Tootie, Gary, Vicky, and Mark simultaneously. Timmy and his anti fairy self were having what appeared to be a very stilted conversation; Tootie and Gary were arguing animatedly while a phantom Cal shook his head and another unknown fairy merely smirked; and Vicky, about a month or less away from giving birth, sulked while her husband worked ardently. No one was murdering each other (Tootie looked homicidal, however), no one was in desperate need of her companionship, and all was about as peaceful as it got in that house.

Soothed, she sighed happily and glanced once more at her goddaughter. The wand jumped, indicating she wasn't the last creature to use it. Wands detected similar magical signatures (Cosmo, because of their telepathy, could utilize hers without too much difficulty), but Sophie's differed more than it was accustomed to. Like a skittish dog, it rolled over in her palm and whimpered, then fell silent. Wands had odd temperaments.

"Where did you get this food, sweetie?" she inquired gently, communicating nonverbally that she wasn't angry, just curious. Nonetheless, she innately cringed like she'd been rapped on the hand. Despite what she now saw, she still feared her.

"I, uh…" she searched the ceiling like a cue card would drop down and provide her the proper response. Naturally, none did.

"Internet?" she offered plaintively and, to her astonishment, Wanda burst out laughing. Not that her response was uproarious, but due to the stress combined with the absurdity, she found herself unable to stop. Sophie stared blankly, watching her godmother roll across the bed in mirth and clutch her sides. She'd never heard her laugh like this- it had an almost musical quality and was highly infectious. When both settled down, Wanda wiped a gleeful tear away.

"It's been a while since I heard _that _particular excuse," she replied, grinning.

Upon Sophie's bafflement, she added, "It was one of Timmy's favorite lines. People bought it, too."

Sophie wondered what ridiculous things he'd wished for and explained with that. Who on earth was thick enough to believe that every time? Sure, one could purchase a lot of things online, but come on. There was a limit somewhere.

"Now," she said seriously, "where did you _really _get this?"

Swallowing guiltily, she answered, "I might've…might've…"

In a rather small voice, she mumbled, "conjured it up."

Wanda's eyes widened and she glanced around the room. Because her eyes had been adjusting to the light, she'd missed the new decorations. Pink drapes hung over the mullioned windows; a warm, shaggy brown rug covered the stone floor; the bedsheets themselves had changed to pink pillowcases and green blankets; a portrait of a faerie boy with black hair, dark brown eyes, a spaded tail, and onyx, leathery, dragon-like wings. The boy grinned cockily, eyes sparkling mischievously. Though his countenance suggested dark magick, light clung to his black clothes and aura. He appeared to be rather young, and, when Sophie's eyes joined hers, she blushed at his aesthetically pleasing elven like features.

"You've been busy," she remarked, smirking. "Who's the faerie in the picture?"

"His name is Deborvak. I dunno what it means, but…" she trailed off, clearly embarrassed.

"I like the decorum," she replied, beaming at her. Warmth blossomed in Sophie's chest and she blushed profusely.

"I-I thought you w-would," she said, stammering in her excitement. "I mean, your room in the treehouse is sorta, you know…"

Wanda nodded, taking her aback once more when she hugged her tightly. The grin faded, replaced by a compassionate and pensive expression. She glanced into her eyes and, abashed, Sophie stared at the comforter. She wished mentally she'd cease blushing so hard- it started to vex her.

"I must talk to Jorgen about you. Even if we can restore your parents' memories, I think you'd be happier in Fairy World," she said and Sophie squealed, bolting upright and hugging her tightly, stealing her breath away.

"You mean it? But, how do you know it's gonna work? I don't have enough magick, do I? Can't I have my parents back _and _still practice magick? Do I really have what it takes?" she yammered and Wanda chuckled, reminded of Tootie's rambling.

"Let's just say he owes us quite a few favors," she responded, smiling. "As for the rest, we'll have to wait and see. I can't tell you off the top of my head how powerful Juandissimo's spell was. It might be irreversible, hun."

Sophie's spirits, as quickly as they'd risen, plummeted to the floor below. Stricken, she glanced at Wanda, nodding solemnly. Permanent? Why? All she'd ever wanted was someone to befriend her, make her days a little easier to live, and love her like her parents tried, but never quite accomplished because of their inability to truly understand her. In essence, she'd desired a companion, but what she'd received was nothing less than hell. She wanted to hate Wanda for what she'd inadvertently caused, but it wasn't her fault, nor was it in the small girl to despise people who carried no blame themselves. She wanted to hate Juandissimo, but what was the point in hating the dead? What was done was done. If her childhood was ruined by her fairy godparents (wasn't _that _ironic?), then she had to cope. Even so, all of this was a terrible burden to a nine year old who hadn't had it easy to begin with.

An arm wrapped around her and, wordlessly, she rocked her back and forth. Sophie, who had hoped she wouldn't cry, burst into tears. Hot and salty, they poured down her cheeks and soiled the sheets.

"We _will _make this right, Soph. Trust me. I'm your fairy godmother," she said and smiled weakly. Sophie had never heard a promise sound flimsier in her life.

* * *

Eyes met, followed by an impregnable silence and a heated, baleful stare on the part of a certain pink hatted brown haired boy. Lorenzo tapped his foot impatiently, longing to expunge what plagued him, yet avoiding it all the same. Naturally, Timmy's hostility only heightened his discomfort, an almost certain ploy on the teen's part. He cleared his throat, swallowed hard, and sought a place to begin. When five minutes passed with nary a sound, Timmy pushed against the kitchen table to stand, but Lorenzo bid him stay. This he did, glowering at the placemat and bidding it to catch fire. Naturally, because he was a human and not a fairy, it did not.

"Well?" he snapped, kicking him in the shin. Lorenzo hissed, icy cerulean eyes narrowing, but he did not capitulate to his desire to kick him swiftly elsewhere. Instead, like a cat, he curled his legs underneath him (with difficulty, given their length) and cast his sire a shrewd glance. As usual, Timmy trembled in barely concealable fury and ground his teeth finely. He was glad the telepathy bond had been shed after his rebirth- he did not fancy a glimpse of his inner thoughts. He somehow envisioned them to involve him burning merrily while Timmy danced heartily.

"Well, exact, proper enunciation lies in lending me time to elucidate myself," he retorted, yet forced amiability. The smile fixated on his face resembled a pumpkin's in October for all its naturalness. Most of those words sailed over Timmy's head and into the great beyond and, like his creation; he began to tap his foot, but far louder and more agitatedly. Lorenzo partook in a fantasy momentarily where he broke said foot and then dangled him upside down by that leg while he screamed. See, he wasn't the only one who mentally torture another. Nonetheless, if he verbalized his thoughts, Timmy would undoubtedly jump on him and attempt to throttle him, replaying the many fights and near seductions occurring in Wanda's absence. Wanda scarcely had the energy now to tell them to stop, much less interfere.

"Time's up," he snarled, pushing against the table again. "Whenever you feel like telling me you're about to murder Wanda again, do let me know."

"Quiet, fool. I have something important to tell you…and it does _not _involve the frach," he growled and at the last word, Timmy growled himself, strangely protective over the small fairy who had at least tried to help him out in the past two years even if this went greatly beyond her experiences as a godmother. The separation had given him time to evaluate her importance to him and, in spite of everything, he knew she was the only mother he had and, beyond his preferences for his maternal parents, probably the best. She didn't deserve his condescension, particularly when she had magic and he had none.

"Why should I believe you?" he retorted, folding his arms across his chest. "In case you haven't noticed, you haven't exactly been sincere in your 'confessions'. You told me Cosmo and Wanda needed to be dead in order for my parents to return and, according to the What-If Spell, you only wanted them gone so you could keep me for yourself. You told me females weren't to be trusted and Tootie, despite all the shit I put her through, still loves me. You're wrong about everything and a murderer and rapist."

Recalling Tootie caused his heart to race, pants to constrict, and his palms to sweat. In between missions, her last one involving a Lorenzo counterpart that made him appreciate his godparents' relentlessness, she rested upstairs. If it weren't for his brashness in following her, she might never have forgiven him…or even survived her last mission. She might owe him her life, but he never brought that up. Indeed, he was grateful she'd let bygones be bygones, while he still gave himself a hard time for causing her to do all those things in her missions and just generally ruining her life.

"Where have you been the last two years?" Lorenzo replied, leaning his chair back and rocking it. Timmy watched the momentum and sincerely hoped it dispelled the anti fairy and he landed on his head, cracking it on the floor. He fought a snicker.

In the midst of his ruminations, an irritated mental message interrupted. He glanced immediately towards the nearly hidden stairs and the only person to enter his mind, Tootie. He'd be prepared to bet that scoundrel, Gary, had found a way into his house to pester Tootie. Damn imaginary boy, always trying to put the moves on his girlfriend. Couldn't he get the hint no one wanted him, least of all his creator?

((How could something that came out of _you _be so infuriating?)) Tootie sent, fuming. He sensed her vexation, but he bit back a laugh. At least she understood his views on him.

Still, she brought up a good point, he thought as he glanced at Lorenzo. Nothing good came out of his mind; everyone inevitably rebelled Perhaps he'd best not wish anything he thought was a good idea, since he'd been proven incredibly wrong. Then again, at this stage in the game, he'd just be glad to have both godparents alive and normal again.

((Because the two human-like creatures who did both want me dead? I never knew I hated myself that much,)) he replied, eyeing Lorenzo warily. The anti fairy scowled, recognizing the glazed look communicating telepathy. Slamming his fists onto the table, he jerked Timmy back to attention. Furious, he glared while his anti self snickered appreciatively.

((Either that, or you need to stop imagining such bad ideas. It's a good thing _you're _not the boy genius,)) she sent back. ((And I think it's because you treat parts of yourself so poorly, they snap.))

Lorenzo, losing patience, stopped rocking, shoved the chair back from the table, strode over, and gripped both sides of his head between his hands. He snarled at his sire and leaned close enough for their noses to touch. Timmy gagged, recoiling, but his grasp increased, to the point where he heard his cheekbones creaking and clamoring for release. He'd forgotten his inhuman strength, though it only made him keener to escape.

"Listen to me. This is important. Your girlfriend/lover/playmate can wait," he growled, dropping his hands to his shoulders and rattling him. His back struck the chair and sent a shockwave through his system.

"_What_?" he snarled. "You're pregnant? I _knew _Icky Vicky was contagious. Now I have to deal with _your _mood swings too?"

"Don't be stupid," he retorted. "While I realize asking you to act intelligent merits a new set of writers, I ask for you to suspend your idiocy for a few minutes. You might learn something."

Pausing dramatically, he scrutinized his surroundings and remembered Tootie holding him down while clutching Timmy's hands. He recalled burning Timmy's floor while constructing a weak magical acid; shaking Cosmo down in the treehouse; threatening Wanda in the basement; meeting Vicky in this very kitchen; being encased in the mirror on the staircase; spying on Timmy in his bedroom and carving up his face; sneaking peeks at Vicky in the basement, threatening her and the subsequent beating that Mark gave him for that; the agony of being exorcised; and then, of course, all of Timmy's memories as well. He never realized how seeped in history the smallest thing was, from the counter to the skillet upon the stove. Momentarily, his throat closed up and he shut his eyes, beckoning the past to fly away and permit him now to speak his piece. It did and, breathing shallowly, he continued.

"I'm leaving Dimmsdale, Timmy. Do not send any long search parties in my absence nor create another "The Other" in my lieu. This adventure has been long and perilous and now, it draws to a close. Do not immediately start sobbing brokenly," he said dryly, aware that if anything, his sire would shriek enraptured and throw a wild party. The notion stung, but he knew there was no chance of Timmy either returning his feelings or, minimally, sparing them. He braced himself for the impact.

The words penetrated Timmy's brain, but they entered rather sluggishly. He thought he'd heard him say "leaving Dimmsdale", but that was incomprehensible. Blinking dumbly, he mouthed his words in the hopes it'd further illuminate their meaning. Vanishing from his town would make him happy, an idea he'd sought against since his creation. Therefore, this had to be a trick. Yet he'd never bamboozled him this way- yes, he'd lied, but it was more a manipulation of the truth than completely incorrect. Nonetheless, why would he fabricate something obviously so important? Bewildered, his eyes swept the floor and eventually returned to him.

Five minutes of silence dragged on and Lorenzo rolled his eyes towards the ceiling as if imploring the gods to grant him patience. He said nothing, however, preferring to let his words impact him in whichever way Timmy chose. To pass the time, he drummed his fingers on the wood, contemplated Wanda's fate at the moment, and what he might do after departing his life, essentially. The silence became unbearable, an oppression. He wished he'd speak, either affirming or rejecting his decision.

If Timmy cared, in the highly unlikelihood of that, he'd realize how much this pained him. Living elsewhere meant separating from his beloved and everything that had helped form him, not to mention his satisfaction derived from them. Why would anyone do that unless they had a very good reason? And yet, he did. It was time to put aside the past and allow him to live his life. If it meant Lorenzo was no longer part of the picture, then, what choice did he have?

"I…" Lorenzo began to break the hush, but trailed off, studying the ceiling and its intricacies before continuing. "I need to stop hurting you. I know there's no point in apologizing because you won't believe me. I also remaining here means I cannot control myself. For the sake of your sanity, peace, and salvaging your childhood, I must be gone."

The extraordinary news dumbfounded him and he sat, uncertain what to say or do or where to commence. Part longed to cheer, jauntily roll his hips and boast he'd never molest him again. Yet that part strangely remained subdued, bewildered by the implications. Wordlessly, he rose from his chair, pushed it back, marched out the kitchen door, dazedly mounted the stairs, opened his door, and flopped, spread eagle, onto his bed. Tootie would come. She had to. For now, he'd simply lie in wait.

* * *

"Fuck _off_," Tootie hissed, kicking Gary towards the door. The problem was (a), she'd been trying to throw him out for the past twenty minutes to no avail and (b), he'd entrenched himself in her room. She wanted to slug him, she really did. It might not solve anything, but it'd make her feel a lot better. Given the past few months, she was no stranger to the powerful urge to smack the hell out of someone until they figured out they were mistreating her or misrepresenting the situation. One aggravation per universe was enough for her, thank you very much. And look, both creatures were magical in nature. Coincidence? She thought not.

Since Timmy unearthed her secret, she'd managed to waylay Gary more often since he disliked running into his creator, particularly when they were in the middle of an 'interesting' interaction (a.k.a., making out). Nonetheless, the method wasn't foolproof, as was evident now. He needed her too, and Gary's refusal to 'go to hell in a handbasket' grated on every nerve. She wondered occasionally whether his propensity at disobliging her came from a desire to tick her off. If so, he'd certainly made the wrong choice, because provoking Tootie was like antagonizing a bit pull. No longer completely sweet, naïve, and gullible, she was still prone to snapping, regardless of her new patched relationship with Timmy. Perhaps he derived his reasoning from jealousy- he, after all, couldn't even catch the echoes of their conversations. Whatever the case, she'd dearly like to fling him out the second story window.

"Not a chance," Gary smirked and she did the only thing that came to mind- kneeing him in the crotch. He'd prostrated himself mockingly in front of her doorway, after all, and she'd positioned herself accordingly. It wasn't _her _fault his testicles got in the way, now, was it?

And, like a wounded animal, down he went, moaning and clutching his genitals. Lying on the carpet and writhing in pain, the image was too much. Throwing back her head, she burst into gales of laughter, naturally at his expense. Gary, too busy nursing his wounded pride and balls to complain, uttered gibberish. She smirked, stepping over him but 'accidentally' brought her foot too far back and kicked him upside the head and proceeded to Timmy's room. Her snickering filled the otherwise noiseless hall.

((You know that hurts like having a bull ram you into a tree, right?)) Timmy chided her and she chuckled. A bull? Well, dealing with his bull had made her want to ram him into a nearby tree, so why not? It wasn't her fault he was created with balls and not other, cleaner equipment. He should have chosen to be a girl.

((How do _you _know what I did?)) she responded, opening the door. ((All you heard were the cries of an injured ego.))

"Because I habitually feel his pain," Timmy said and, leaping off the bed, he wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her hair to sniff the lilac shampoo she used. She reminded him more of a rare rose, surviving the tundra or desert. To behold her was to behold perfection, albeit marred slightly by her minute flaws. Yet those flaws were somehow less significant in light of everything she meant to him. To believe even one's flaws are beautiful is the mark of true love, alas, and Timmy had fallen badly.

Sighing happily, she spun and wrapped her arms around his waist. He'd gained weight at her admonishing and finally, had managed to look somewhat more like he had before last September, before Lorenzo connived him. The scars of his suicide attempts and general slashing had started to fade as well, but not nearly enough to comfort her. She'd told Wanda her suspicions and the two had confronted him one last time, forcing him to throw out all the razors and anything else he might use to hurt himself. Blades were dulled until she could trust him again.

((I love you,)) he murmured and his affection flowed into their link. She smiled, returning the emotion and nuzzling him. Maintaining open communication was the key to preventing any lapses, both in judgment or otherwise, and since no one else was around to keep an eye on him, it behooved her to care for him. She didn't mind, naturally, but now that she was the rock in the family, she comprehended Wanda's difficulties anew. Between Timmy and Lorenzo, she often had a handful.

Leading her to the bed, he held her close like a fragile porcelain figure, prone to breaking by the slightest ill wind. In his arms, her heartbeat mollified him like the radiant heat of her body. The two lay on his mattress and, twisting, she maneuvered herself so her head lay on his chest; he wrapped his arms around her possessively, as if daring Gary to intrude. Nonetheless, after his recent 'encounter', she doubted he'd be in a hurry to deal with her again. At least, she certainly hoped so. Unless he was a glutton for punishment.

((And I love you, Timmy. But something's up.)) She kissed his cheek and shut her eyes, diminishing the world until it consisted of just them. At peace, she listened his steady heart and clockwork breaths, rising and lowering her human pillow. They usually cuddled, his acquiescence, but she knew he secretly enjoyed it too. Months of desiring closeness only to shove it away turned him desperate for any sort of contact.

"Lorenzo…" he whispered and explained, ((he's leaving Dimmsdale, Toot. And that should make me happy. Or, at least, make me _something_. But it doesn't. I don't know why.))

Gnawing her lip reflectively, she contemplated the matter like it was a life or death situation. His breath tickled the top of her head and she smiled despite herself, wrapping her arms around his waist and running a hand along his back. Sometimes, she had to assert he belonged to her and this wasn't a crazy dream. What a nightmare it'd be in that case, but at least one part had worked out well. God, she loved him.

((You don't believe him, maybe?)) she put in after a few minutes. ((Or you're shell shocked?))

He said nothing and she plunged onward.

((He's put you through hell and you don't know what to expect anymore. He's tricked you in the past and, yet, if he _is _telling the truth, the concept of him missing is incomprehensible. He's molded your life negatively, yes, but he impacted you hugely. You've grown accustomed to him and you might disdain him, but you're used to his existence.)) she hypothesized and her only response was a blank look. Rolling her eyes, she tried to figure out how plainer she could express herself, but that wasn't the issue. He was failing miserably at imagining a world without Lorenzo.

((I _know _you'd rather jump off a cliff than keep him around; I'm just making a point.))

((Do you think I ought to ask him to stay?)) he blurted and slapped his forehead. Why would he think that, much less vocalize it? What was wrong with him? He didn't want him alive, much less in the same house. Was it guilt? Why should he feel guilty over someone who had caused him so much grief?

((I think you ought to do whatever you think is right. He's done enough damage to last a lifetime, but it's not for me to decide. He's a part of _you_, Timmy. He's your creation and that alone entitles you to decide his fate if you choose,)) she replied simply, opening her eyes, rising, and opening the window. A cool breeze permeated the room, but when she glanced out, she saw the ominously empty treehouse and swallowed hard, glancing away. Where was she? What could she be doing now? Would she return?

Her words resonated through his mind and he frowned, pondering this carefully. Other than their breathing, one could have heard a pin drop, it was so quiet. Tootie pivoted, glancing at him wordlessly but adding nothing. She'd done all she could, technically. The choice was his and his alone. No one could influence it any more.

((I think I need some time to mull it over,)) he sent finally, shutting his eyes. He fell asleep immediately.

* * *

One month, maybe less depending on if her water broke or not. And because the world was out to get her, the baby came early. Vicky had two weeks before her life changed forever.

* * *

"You…you won't die, will you?" Sophie asked agitatedly. She stroked Wanda's hair and hugged her tightly. A few minutes ago, she'd informed her she was going to in to retrieve Cosmo and defeat Remy and Eschcolex. It hadn't taken the nine year old very long to panic and now, she had to gently apprise of the notion that while she might not die, she also might never return. However, putting that mildly without further freaking her out was harder than she predicted. Already, the girl had a stranglehold. She awkwardly patted the top of her head and thanked evolution fairies needed less air than humans.

"I'll…" Lying came to mind, but those doe-like eyes distressed her. Disentangling herself, she clasped Sophie's hands and glanced at her urgently. _Understand, _she tried to send, _that this is a life or death situation. Understand that though I love you and Timmy, who I'm going to have to visit next, I must do this or surrender Cosmo. Please forgive me._

"If I don't come back," she said, swallowing hard, "tell Timmy I love him and tell Tootie to contact Jorgen. She might grumble, but she'll know who you're talking about and she's the only person he has vested interest at the moment."

Sophie nodded, barely understanding much. Wanda hugged her tightly and smiled weakly, like she wasn't possibly marching off to her death. The girl paled considerably at the notion and suddenly hugged her painfully, pleading desperately. Wanda shook her head at each insistence and, holding up her wand, warned her not to interfere and that she'd return shortly after telling Timmy about this. After all, if she was going to die, he might as well know. Sophie lunged and landed empty handed on the bed beside Cosmo.

* * *

Wanda landed adroitly on her godson's bed and stroked his hair. In his sleep, the teenager moaned, but whether it came from a nightmare or a pleasant dream, she couldn't discern. She was loath to wake him, but she knew if she failed in her attempt to retrieve Cosmo and thus, never had another opportunity to speak with his godmother, he'd hate it. Tenderly, astringently aware this might be their last conversation; she shook him and called his name until he blearily awoke.

"Tootie?" he called and she shook her head, waiting for his eyes to focus. When they did, he sat up and embraced her. She permitted him a minute and then, pushing against him, she sat Indian style on the bed. Timmy blinked, taken aback.

"Wanda, what's going on? I thought you'd be looking for Cosmo-"

"I am. That's why I'm here. I thought…I thought you'd like to know that if I don't return from this sojourn, Timmy, I'm as good as dead," she choked out and his face ran through a range of emotions. Shock, dismay, fury, and protectiveness. He wrapped his arms around her like he could protect her from the world and its troubles. She let herself be held, though she began to tremble. The gravity of the situation had crashed down upon her shoulders now that she had time to think about it. She could _die_ and leave Timmy a complete orphan, not to mention Sophie. Timmy must've sensed her thoughts, because he gripped her stronger still, a single tear trickling off his cheeks and into her hair.

_Oh, don't cry, sweetie. You'll make **me **start_, she thought disparagingly, biting her lip.

"Don't leave me, Wanda…please…" he whispered, too upset to be outraged. "There has to be another way. You can't die…you're all I have…"

He'd lost his parents twice, Wanda once before, and Cosmo. Now, he might never have Cosmo _or _his godmother, the only mother he had left? A lump of tears rose in his throat and he fought valiantly to keep from sobbing unabashed. She needed him to be strong, didn't she? But how could he consider that when his heart was breaking? It was such a big risk…there had to be another, less critical method. She just hadn't considered it. After all, why would she willingly walk to her massacre?

The more he thought about it, the less sense it made. Wanda was a fighter, wasn't she? So she'd fight for a different spell or at least look it up, wouldn't she? He glanced into her somber pink eyes, eyes that for him had always shone compassionately (in her 'dark fairy' state, she'd rarely if ever beheld him). The seriousness within brought the truth crashing down sharply. She could die and she knew it. She also knew there was no other way, despite what he protested. She hadn't come here to hear his objections but as a courtesy and out of love. The lump doubled and he found it increasingly difficult to swallow. She loved him like he was really hers…

"Sport…there _is _no other way," she replied, standing to wipe his tears away. "And if I don't do it now, there won't be anything left of Cosmo to save."

_**So**? What about me? I'm still here, Wanda…don't leave_, he thought-whined, but his mouth seemed welded shut. _Stay…I love you…_

Throat constricted, he bent, kissed her forehead, and rocked her back and forth. She blinked, surprised, but oddly pleased. Why did it take a monumental occasion for him to affirm his feelings? Still, all good things must end and, grimacing, she slid out of his arms and stood, wand glowing. His eyes swam in tears and she fought the overwhelming urge to tell him 'everything would be fine' and 'don't worry'. But, in all conscience, like with Sophie, lying wasn't an option. Parting with him was more poignant than her scene with her goddaughter, simply because she was more attached and supported him through more strife and difficult situations.

"I love you, Timmy. And I always will. Remember that."

And, shutting her eyes, she recalled Sophie from Marseilles, deposited her in her room, and disappeared into the void.

* * *

Eschcolex waited in anticipation of the feast coming. He squeezed Remy's lifeless shoulders until they shattered, cried gleefully, and plunged himself into the void as well. First up, Remy's soul and, while it detained her, he'd relinquish the last parcel of Cosmo's soul bond to hers and then, acquire hers as well. It was a two for one sale on the fairies and he was ravenous. Licking his lips, he leered into the darkness and anticipated the tell-tale pink aura. This would be quite enjoyable.

* * *

Hugging herself, she mentally chanted that this would be the last time she journeyed into the void for the rest of her life, if all went according to plan. Conversely, if it didn't, she'd be stuck here. The thought induced shudders and, grimacing, she hoped the second version never came to pass. Shutting her eyes, she forced herself to focus on the blinding, binding green light that resonated with the bit of him she always carried. She honed in it after a few minutes, but its dullness shocked her. It flickered, faded, and then flickered again like a dying ember. Cosmo was dying here and if she didn't pull him out in time, both halves would suffer.

"Cosmo?" she called, but her voice dissipated. ((Cosmo?))

She probed the omnipresent connection, but she sensed nothing. Panicking, she spurted forward, at least, whatever resembled that. Spirits shone and then disappeared and, for a half second, she swore she saw Juandissimo trailing her. Anxiety renewed her speed; she sped ahead like a bat out of hell. Her heart thundered in her chest and though she'd long since learned how to combat nerves, she was unconsciously panicking.

She shut her eyes once more, attempted to remove any doubts, and a vortex sucked her into its clutches.

* * *

"Glad you could make it, faery," a voice cajoled and she brushed herself off, glancing around. Books towered, reaching the ceiling, barely visible in the darkness of the room. A fire in the fireplace provided the scant illumination, but otherwise, she'd entered a shadow world. She shivered, swallowing hard, and found that iron backbone she situated in dire emergencies. Steeling herself, she held up her wand (where had _that _come from?) and faced her opponent.

Cosmo, colors askew, floated before her. She gasped, gripping the wand tightly enough to splinter the wood. He chuckled a deep, demonic guffaw that sent her courage scurrying into a corner of the room to whimper pitifully. Her legs wobbled, but she never toppled nor retreated. Indeed, at this state, she wondered if she remembered how.

Sneering, wishing she contained half as much bravado as her voice, she snapped, "And who would _you _be?"

The Cosmo-like creature snickered, landing on the maroon shag rug. Extending his hand, he stroked her face, but she recoiled like he'd stabbed her. Sparks shot from her pink eyes and, were they the slings and arrows of misfortune he would have been mortally wounded. However, rather than be offended by her spurn, he cackled, spinning around and producing a black cape out of thin air. He grinned at her like a cat beaming at its latest prey and she shuddered involuntarily, but her eyes turned impassive and cool. The Wanda Juandissimo created did not back down from a challenge, especially from a _man_, be it fairy or otherwise.

"I'm your husband, Wanda," he replied in a voice that was far too chilly and inhuman to be his.

"You lie," she replied, narrowing her eyes. "I know my husband when I see and feel him."

The fire extinguished and, for a second, she thought she went blind. Then, burning merrily like it had never gone out, another burst of flames lit the room and, instead of Cosmo, she saw Juandissimo. Gritting her teeth, she bit back a snarl. Mind games. Mind games, so characteristic of demons. Who else would spend so much time deliberating these things? Well, Lorenzo, but he had entirely too much time anyway.

"Would you know me as well, mi amor?" the mock Juandissimo cried, reaching out to her. She held up her wand and he disintegrated, nothing more than ashes littering the floor. The fire extinguished again and, when it reappeared, Remy replaced his godfather.

The stilting way he walked, the undead look in his frigid blue eyes, and the jerkiness in his other movements told her this was the real thing. A light blue aura enveloped him and when he beheld her, she knew he lived and breathed artificially, imbued with his soul momentarily. The demon had dispersed, but his presence lingered. She couldn't pinpoint his location, but he was here, watching. Why? Why had he left his battle to his acolyte? What, he thought she'd succumb to Remy? Fat chance, not after she'd gone so far and done so much.

Yet where was Cosmo in all this? Where were they hiding him? Was he here at all or was this a ruse? Suspicions whipped through her mind and, grasping the wand Eschcolex had donated to her cause, she recalled the importance of patience. She also, was woefully unaware of the situation at hand. Her enemy knew more about her fate than she did and this made her very antsy.

"Your husband _killed _him, you know," Remy said petulantly, like she'd scolded him for taking a cookie out of the jar. She blinked, aware of her wings rustling and a sudden burst of telepathy shot down before she received the message. Dangerous things were afoot, but it fit- she was, after all, in the lion's den.

She ignored him and sought the location of the telepathy she'd weakly encountered. In all likelihood, Eschcolex was using him as a deploy and she'd enough of creatures putting her off, including her own second half. Holding up her wand, she cast a spell that dispelled all the dark and sent the room into staggering brightness. Remy howled, vanishing into the netherworld, never to be seen again. Wanda couldn't care less.

Wearing a black, hooded robe that obliterated his features, he descended from the ceiling and, between two scaly, skeletal fingers swung Cosmo like a pendulum. His green eyes opened briefly, his mouth moved to form "Wanda", and then he fell silent; horribly, painfully silent. All the color had drained from his face, now ashen, and his green hair hung limply, like the living dead. The part of him she possessed echoed distantly and quieted immediately. He _was _dying and so was she. Her legs buckled and, unable to grab anything, she tumbled onto her knees.

"Good to see a fairy paying obeisance," he called and his deep, sinister voice shook her to the very core. Cosmo's chest, which had been rising minutely, stopped entirely and the demon grinned, licking his lips. Wanda's heart stopped with her lover's and, then, painfully, restarted. No. It couldn't be…she couldn't be too late…

* * *

Timmy, surrounded by Sophie, Tootie, Lorenzo, and, strangely enough, Vicky and Mark, jumped off the bed and shook terribly. Tootie wrapped her arms around him protectively and Vicky prodded Wanda's body, clammy and cool to the touch. Sophie had managed to grab Cosmo from Marseilles and now, there was little difference in the two fairies' visage or status. To any outsider, for all extensive purposes, they could have been dead.

* * *

"You see, my dear, you're too late," he chortled, twirling Cosmo's twitching soul like a hunter waving his prized dead rabbit. The bile rose in her throat and she gulped, nauseous. Snorting at her discomfort, he flung him into the unseen walls and, along with the distinct thud as his head struck, a shimmering trail of blood accompanied. In the back of her head, a voice whispered, "mind games", but she disregarded it. Hopelessness consumed her and she hung her head, tears prickling the corners of her eyes.

"All that's left is that the last sliver you cradle," Eschcolex hissed and glided towards her. Woebegone, she glanced at Cosmo and pushed at their telepathic bond, but received static. Wait, static? That wasn't what happened before at all. Through the hood, she sensed the demon leering and, stumbling backwards; she waved her wand once more, this time willing all shadow tricks, games, and misconceptions away.

The fire turned green. Stacks of books dematerialized, contorting into comfort viridian couches; a jade lamp shone brightly on a picture of her; unlike the insurmountable piles where the ceiling was assumed but not visible, a starry moonlit displayed itself overhead. Relief flooded through her and, smiling weakly, she rested a hand on one of the couches. Eschcolex, retreating from the feebly cackling emerald blaze, backed into a statue of her and, to her astonishment, she burst out laughing at the absurdity. She was rewarded with a glare.

"Where is it?" Eschcolex growled, advancing on her. "I know you have the remnants of his soul, now give them up."

"Not if my life depended on it," she replied, smiling. "And especially not when we're in Cosmo's mind room."

Conjuring a maze in the hopes it'd distract him, she began chanting a spell to steal his victims' souls and bring them out into the open. What truly finishes a demon is not particularly poignant magic or even light- it's the removal of its prey, because a demon never fully digests its food. It relies on stolen powers to nourish itself and can never quite get enough. When the creature takes their magic back, bereft of power, a demon fades into oblivion. But she wasn't doing this just to destroy him- she needed her Cosmo back.

"_Frach_," he roared, enraged and escaping easily. She just prayed she'd finish her spell before he stopped her.

"(Wrongfully acquired magick, may you tear into the very being that tore into you)

"(Treat him with the same courtesy and respect displayed before)"

"(Give the devil his due)"

"(And ensure he haunts this world nevermore!)"

At the last word, Eschcolex lunged, intending to tear her limb from limb, but a rainbow poured out and, like maggots on a piece of rotting flesh, reduced him to a cloak in a matter of seconds. All except one, who glided over to her and smiled serenely. Like she'd thought when she'd first met him; he had a gorgeous smile.

"Hey, Wanda."

* * *

A month passed, Vicky's son was born, and, holding two odd muffins and one normal Fairyversary Muffin, Tootie stared out at the treehouse. Cal and Daniela, restored to full life, floated over her shoulder. Daniela twirled, unaccustomed to being a godmother or, indeed, life in general, and smiled, unable to stop. She hugged Cal tightly enough to cut into his ribs, but his eyes were on his goddaughter, not her. He wore an expression grave enough to match the reasoning behind the muffins adorned with black icing and reeking of blood and death.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Tootie?" he asked sternly. "These muffins _were _intended for _your _wishes, not your lover's or Sophie's."

"I'm positive," she replied softly, because even if she desired something else, in her heart of hearts, she knew this was the only opportunity to change anything and make at least two people she cared about happy.

Picking up one Death Muffin and wincing at the grotesque taste of chewing something resembling a dead body, she called, "I wish Timmy Turner's mother back to full life."

With a small pop, she appeared on the lawn and scratched her head in bewilderment. She glanced around, but Tootie ignored her. Taking another bite of the second muffin and cursing the foul taste in her mouth, she wished another person back to life. At least after this, the muffins would lose their magical potency and she could throw them out. She wanted to plunge toothpaste and mouth wash down her throat to forget the wretched flavor.

"I wish Timmy Turner's father back to full life."

He too popped up, blinking and breathing harshly, remembering his time as a ghost. She smirked, but shut the blinds to block out the possibilities she'd erased. A tear trickled down her cheek and she drew a ragged breath before taking a bite out of the Fairyversary muffin.

"I wish Sophie's parents remembered her and she could live with them again if she wants to."

And, then, it was done. Miserable and wailing despite herself, Tootie flung herself into her bed and buried her face in the pillows to sob.

* * *

Knocking on the door, he received no answer but strode in uninvited anyway. Sitting beside his beloved on the bed, he stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head. Tootie sniffled, but otherwise paid him no mind. Timmy, nonplussed, caressed the small of her back and those little hairs on the back of her neck. She'd stopped crying to stare dully into the pillow.

((Go outside,)) she sent, not trusting herself to speak. ((Your parents are waiting.))

Stunned but aware she couldn't lie in telepathy, he managed a 'huh' until she rose, shoved him towards the window, showed them in the yard, snarled, and pushed him out the door. After a few minutes deliberation, she followed, pulling on an autumn jacket. It was rather chilly out.

Timmy grinned, dashing out the front door to hug his parents, but stopped to glance at her. Though she was dejected, she offered him a plaintive smile and shrugged helplessly. They both understood she'd sacrificed her happiness for his sake and, after accepting a profuse thank you, Tootie turned away. Watching him with his parents was simply too painful.

* * *

To say everything following was a fairy tale ending would be inaccurate and unfair. Thanks to their rejuvenation process, Cosmo and Wanda no longer had to be kept a secret from Timmy's parents, which was one less burden. Vicky and Mark moved out with their son Nicky (short for Nicolas) and Lorenzo was never seen again, presumably in Boston (at least, that was what Wanda told Cosmo when she checked up on him). Sophie, after a lengthy period, decided to stay with both her parents and Wanda, since she'd grown fond to the pink fairy. Thus, on the weekends, she returned via magic to learn how to further her powers and visit everyone else.

Gary eventually gave up and left town too, presumably for a place where imaginary friends were appreciated. No one really asked other than Wanda, anyway. Timmy was glad to be rid of him and, after seeing everyone else off that troubled him, he really couldn't care. One less problem for him.

Everyone whose souls escaped Eschcolex returned to the void to spend eternity wandering. At least in their forgetfulness, disturbed spirits like Remy could find a semblance of peace.

And Tootie? Thanks to a rapping on the hand by someone more powerful than Jorgen himself, she received compensation for her selfless actions. While her parents couldn't communicate daily on the same level as Sophie's, Nicky's, Timmy's, or Cosmo and Wanda, they were granted the power to follow her as spirits and watch over her.

Leaning against the windowsill and watching Timmy's father lob a snowball at his son, she repeated the phrase so oft heard in the past few months but true nonetheless.

"It's finally over."

* * *

**Fin**

* * *

**The Other Saga (Complete)- 1/06/04 to 2/01/06**

**TOS Part One- 1/6/04-2/16/04**

**Part Two- 3/14/04- 5/15/04**

**Part Three-5/23/04- 12/29/04**

**Part Four 2/05/05- 2/01/06**

**Original conception- June 2003**


End file.
